


Never Enough

by PrettyPrairie



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Smut, sensual massage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-20
Updated: 2020-06-26
Packaged: 2021-03-02 04:13:27
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 69,026
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23748907
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PrettyPrairie/pseuds/PrettyPrairie
Summary: Sandor Clegane vaguely recalled Arya Stark as a troublesome young girl. That was why he was surprised to find that she was all grown up now and instead of being merely troublesome she was downright dangerous.She was as thick-headed as ever but now her body was soft and curved. Sandor was finding it more and more difficult to keep his eyes to himself. It didn't help that Arya was fully aware of his weakness and used it to her advantage.Arya had his number. She knew how to push his buttons. She wasn't afraid to touch him in all the right places. He was doomed.
Relationships: Sandor Clegane/Arya Stark
Comments: 124
Kudos: 137





	1. A Kiss

Sandor Clegane was bored out of his mind. There was nothing worse than providing security for a spoiled brat. Especially this spoiled brat. Joffrey Baratheon was a sadistic little jerk. He should know. He’d been looking after him for years. He’d just gotten worse and worse. The way he treated people was appalling. It was hard to believe that he’d ever managed to get a girlfriend much less someone as nice as the red-haired Stark girl. He was glad when she had finally come to her senses and dumped him.

He had been thrilled when the little shit had started university five years ago. He was in graduate school now. Sandor had to watch over him a lot less often. He mostly was assigned to his mother, Cersei Lannister. It wasn’t exactly enjoyable. She could get quite high-handed and snippy sometimes but it was still better than having to be around Joffrey.

He mostly had to follow Cersei to and from work at Baratheon Enterprises where she was the CEO. Of course, there was also shopping trips on the weekends and the occasional party or fund raiser. Thankfully, she mostly stayed home on weeknights so if he was scheduled for the evening shift he had a lot of time to himself. He did have to carry her up to bed every once in a while when she drank too much wine but she didn’t weigh very much so it really wasn’t that bad.

Unfortunately, the kid was home on summer break from school and was working as an intern at his family’s business. Sandor and his co-worker, Meryn Trant, got stuck escorting Joffrey to a stupid dinner party at the Blackwater Bay Hotel. He knew he should be watching Joff but Sandor entertained himself by admiring the young ladies instead.

Most of them were very attractive. Some of them were highly intelligent, serious-minded, motivated young women but others were vapid, self-centered princesses. A few of them were sweet like Joff's younger sister, Myrcella, but others were nearly as vicious as Cersei. Most, if not all of them, were in Joff’s social circle and in their late teens to their mid-twenties. They were the spoiled daughters of the extremely wealthy. He did like to look at them though. They all had spectacular designer dresses and sexy heels. He liked to look at their legs.

After awhile, he noticed one of the servers as she moved around the room waiting on tables. There was something about her that had caught his attention. She was a rather petite girl with striking dark eyebrows. She had thick, shoulder-length, wavy brown hair and her legs were excellent. She was toned to perfection. She was wearing a staff uniform consisting of a crisp, white dress shirt and a black skirt. She was very nicely shaped. She turned suddenly and he got a better look at her face. He realized she was the youngest Stark girl. Her Northern grey eyes were partially hidden behind a pair of black, thick-rimmed eyeglasses. Her eyes skimmed over him as she appeared to be looking for someone.

It gave him a jolt. He felt a little funny for checking her out. What in the fuck was she doing here working as a server? He remembered the last time he saw her was about five or six years ago. He thought she might be about three or four years younger than Joff. She had been a real handful as a kid. She had grown since he’d last seen her. Well, she hadn’t really grown all that much taller but she had filled out in all the right places.

Sandor’s observations were interrupted by Meryn Trant. They began to argue over who was going to get stuck guarding Joff if he decided to take one of the young ladies for an overnight tryst somewhere. Sandor was extremely annoyed. He didn’t like to work beyond his shift but it seemed to happen more often than not when Joffrey was involved.

He’d stepped behind some potted ficus trees in an alcove to fight more privately with Trant. After a minute of two, he casually looked over his shoulder to make sure some girl wasn’t slapping Joff’s face or trying to gouge his eyes out. Joff was clustered in a group with his sycophantic entourage. Suddenly, Sandor saw the Stark girl slip around unnoticed behind Joff, cause a diversion and unclasp the gold chain he was wearing and slip it from his neck as easily as taking candy from a baby.

She unhurriedly glided away toward the double doors of the dining room. Sandor was intrigued. After she’d made it through the doors, he quickly followed after her. He looked around the spacious foyer and toward the outside doors. He didn’t see her anywhere. She could have left the hotel but he didn’t think she'd gone that far. He turned right and strode down the hallway toward the ladies room. 

Arya was well pleased. She’d taken back what was theirs. She couldn’t believe how stupid Sansa had been. She’d cried her eyes out and admitted she’d given Joffrey their father's prized gold direwolf pendant and chain. Sansa had recently split up with Joff and he had threatened to have it melted down into scrap because he was so spiteful.

Arya was glad he was so self-absorbed that he hadn’t even noticed that she'd been stalking him. Of course, someone like him would never pay attention to the staff. The Hound had noticed her earlier but she doubted he remembered who she was and she was sure he wouldn’t recognize her anyway even if he did remember her. For some reason, the Hound had looked away guiltily when she'd glanced his way. She had been surreptitiously watching him while trying to decide when to make her move.

She just hoped that Sansa and Joff were finished for good. She hated to think that they might get back together and Sansa would be foolish enough to give the chain back to him again. She was counting on Joff being too lazy and too arrogant to make much effort in trying to reconcile with her sister. She would be pissed if she had to retrieve the chain for a second time. Arya smiled to herself. It had been so easy. She slipped into the restroom to call Sansa but she couldn't resist taking the time to admire the pendant. She remembered when her mother had given her father the exquisite piece of jewelry on their wedding anniversary. Now they were both gone. She rubbed her thumb over the fine gold filigree.

She was standing at the mirrored vanity when she heard the door open behind her. She glanced up into the mirror to see the reflection of the person who had entered. It was Clegane. Shit! She should have left the hotel when she had the chance.

His eyes were on hers in the mirror when he quietly closed the door behind him. He silently walked across the room until he was standing directly behind her. She supposed they didn’t call him the Hound for nothing. He’d tracked her as well as any dog.

They continued to stare at each other in the mirror. Gods! He was even bigger than she remembered. It wasn’t just that the top of her head was only mid-chest on him; he was just so much more substantial than her. She might be able to defend herself if she had to but it could go very badly. He looked entirely capable of doing some serious damage.

“Let’s have the chain.” He said calmly. His right hand came up and he held his palm up near her shoulder.

Arya wasn't about to give it to him. Before she could think twice about what she was about to do, she whipped her hand under her skirt and slid the chain down the front of her panties. She then held up both hands and shrugged. “What chain?”

She watched for his reaction carefully while standing on the balls of her feet ready to move in case he went after her. To her amazement, he snickered.

He looked almost friendly. “Are you serious?”

She tried not to return his smile but she couldn’t help herself. Her lips turned up of their own accord.

He put his hands on his hips. “Why did you take it? Does it have something to do with your sister?”

She turned around to face him as she looked at him with surprise. “You know who I am?”

He nodded. “Of course I do. You were a royal pain in the ass when you visited the Red Keep."

“No one was supposed to notice me here. Did I do something to draw attention to myself?”

“No, Girl. You didn’t do anything to give yourself away except for pretending you were a server. That was decidedly suspicious. You don't usually see too many heiresses waiting on tables.”

Her eyebrow shot up. “I still don't understand.”

“It's not that complicated. I recognized you. I saw through your little disguise.” He reached out and took the thick glasses off her face. “Are these really yours?” He held them up to his eyes and looked through them. They were clear lenses. They weren’t prescription eyewear. “No, I thought not. No one would wear glasses this ugly.”

“But why did you look at me in the first place? Are you really that thorough at your job that you look at every single face in the room?”

He snorted. “No. If you must know, I looked at you because you’re pretty.”

Her mouth fell open. “What? But I’m not . . .”

He scoffed. “Don’t be stupid. You most certainly are.” He sighed and tucked the glasses into her front pocket. “Tell me about the chain.”

He had thrown her off balance. She bit her bottom lip. She decided to take a chance. “It belonged to my father.”

His face became serious. “Your sister gave it to Joff?”

She nodded.

He shook his head. “She shouldn't have done that."

“If he had any decency, he would have returned it to her.”

“He's not known for his decency."

"Are you?" She asked.

"Not really, no."

Arya frowned. “It would be best if you would just let me keep it.”

“Alright, alright.” He thought for a moment and then he gave her a smug look. “If I let you keep it, what are you going to give me in return?”

Arya’s dark brows rose indignantly. “What do you mean?”

“Just what it sounds like.” He lifted his good eyebrow and looked at her meaningfully.

“Oh.” Did he want money or . . . ? Gods! How far was she willing to go? “What do you want?” She blurted out. She could have bit her tongue. She was an idiot.

She watched him with discomfort as he looked up at the ceiling and rubbed his chin as he pretended to think it over. Then he looked back at her with a teasing little look in his eyes. “A kiss.”

“What!” She blinked rapidly.

“A kiss. Surely, you know what that is.”

“A kiss between you and me?” She asked incredulously.

“No, between you and Joffrey.” He said sarcastically. “Of course between you and me!”

“On the lips?” She still couldn’t believe it.

“Yes!” He barked. She was making him mad.

“Open mouthed or closed mouthed?”

“Forget it!” He roared.

She could see he was angry and embarrassed. It was probably best if she tried to salvage the situation. “I’ll do it!” She said as if she was accepting a dare.

Her words calmed his ire. He looked at her suspiciously. “You will?”

She was amused when he suddenly seemed uncertain. She nodded. “Yes. Let's get this over with."

He frowned. “You could at least _pretend_ you’re not disgusted."

She rolled her eyes. Seven Hells! Here goes nothing, she thought as she reached up and grasped the lapels on his jacket and pulled him down to her until they were face to face. She studied his deep brown eyes and she experienced a surge of confidence. She could do this. She was sure of it.

She slowly pulled him forward the last few inches until their lips met and she gave him the softest whisper of a kiss. She pulled away and looked at him with a triumphant smirk. She wasn’t sure what happened next. All she knew was in the next instant his hands were on her arms and he yanked her back to his lips and when she gasped in surprise he used the opportunity to slide his tongue into her mouth. When her tongue finally came into contact with his it was as if she’d touched a live wire.

A sudden heat which started low in her belly inflamed her and she moaned into his mouth. She let go of his lapels and pulled him to her by his shoulders and then wrapped her arms around his neck. He groaned in response and his arms found their way around her. Their tongues fought for dominance and then he quickly took over and kissed her hungrily as if he could barely control himself. She thought she might combust from the amount of heat he was sparking inside of her.

Sandor didn’t understand what was happening either. All he knew was that while most women were repulsed by him and would have pushed him away by now, that’s not what she was doing. It was if she couldn’t get enough of him and she was clinging to him as if she wanted more. He wondered desperately if she’d let him shove up her skirt and fuck her on the vanity. Damn his Kevlar vest. It was in his way and he couldn’t feel her against his chest. He could have died from the frustration. He groaned again as she ran her fingers through his hair.

There was a sound of someone talking just before the door opened and two women walked into the restroom. He’d had enough time to push Arya away from him but just barely. The women paused in mid-sentence when they saw him in the ladies room.

Arya quickly side-stepped him and went for the door. She stopped and turned to look at him one last time. He looked back at her with an intensity that was startling. She turned and fled. No one ever accused her of taking the chain or brought it up again. Arya had to assume the Hound had kept her secret.


	2. Only Idiots Swim at Pool Parties

Arya was sitting at the kitchen table early Saturday afternoon at Sansa's luxury condo. Sansa and her friends Jeyne and Margaery were busy trying on different outfits while styling their hair and experimenting with expensive cosmetics in her bedroom and en suite bathroom.

They were gossiping about their friends and acquaintances. They were discussing their grades, internships and employment prospects. They were talking about who was vacationing in the mountains or on a private island or yacht. Most importantly, they were concerned with who was dating whom. They seemed to take particular delight in their friends' relationship troubles. They appeared to have an intricate knowledge of their acquaintance’s issues and faults. They continued from there to debate the physical attributes of every single man they knew.

Arya was listening to them while she was cleaning her fencing sword. She thought they were really quite ruthless. It was a pity they were wasting their time at the university studying for degrees in fields that didn't best suit their abilities. Arya was positive they all could have had excellent careers in the Foreign Service as master intelligence officers.

Sansa walked into the kitchen to grab another bottle of wine. She stopped and looked at Arya. “Oh Gods, Arya. Are you planning on spending another Saturday night alone with your weaponry?”

Arya frowned. “No.”

“Then what are your plans?”

“I might go kickboxing with Gendry later.” She answered defensively.

“Kickboxing! Ugh!” Sansa wrinkled her nose. “That’s not a date.”

“I never said it was a _date_.”

Margaery stuck her head around the corner. “Gendry may be a starving artist but he sure has a nice set of abs.” She sighed.

“Hmph.” Sansa sniffed. “He’s always dirty and sweaty.”

“He creates art from metal!” Arya couldn’t believe she had to explain this. “How do you think he's supposed to make sculptures without getting dirty and sweaty? You have to heat metal to shape it or do you think he should be able to just bend it neatly with his hands like some kind of superhero?”

“You’re too particular, Sansa. I’d let Gendry bend me with his hands anytime.” Jeyne declared.

Margaery gave them her crooked smile. "I'm more interested in getting dirty and sweaty with him."

Arya considered stabbing herself with her sword just to escape this ridiculous conversation. Ever since she had moved to King’s Landing a couple of months ago she had felt like a fish out of water. Sansa had already been living here for four years and had just graduated from KLU. She was about to start law school in the fall. Arya had transferred schools and was going to begin her junior year at KLU.

Everyone just assumed Sansa and she would live together in the same condo but Sansa was used to her privacy and didn’t necessarily like Arya being around all the time. Arya wasn’t used to living like this at all. She’d been very busy the last several years and now she was at a kind of a loss with what to do with herself now that she had an abundance of free time.

“Why don’t you come with us to the pool party?” Sansa asked.

“Is that where you’re all going?” Arya shook her head. “Why did you all fix your hair and put on a bunch of make-up if you’re just going to go swimming?”

Margaery tossed a throw pillow from the sofa at Arya’s head. “You idiot, you don’t swim at a pool party!”

. . . . .

After they arrived at Stannis Baratheon’s estate they made their way out to the terrace. Sansa had stopped poolside to chat with Stannis’ brother, Renly. Arya stood near her looking around. She spotted that weasel, Joffrey. Shit! What was he doing here? She was sure Sansa had said he was out of town visiting his sister in Dorne. She was so glad Sansa had finally come to her senses and was no longer with that jerk. She couldn’t believe she’d dated him for the last two years. Arya was pretty sure two minutes would have been long enough.

Of course, Sansa had had a crush on him years ago when they came for an extended visit to his home when they were children. Their father had been great friends with his father, Robert Baratheon. Arya nudged Sansa when she saw Joff heading their way.

Sansa made a distasteful face as Joffrey and a couple of his flunkies confronted her. She tipped her nose in the air and ignored him as she attempted to sweep past him. Apparently, he didn’t like that. He reached out and grabbed her arm.

“Where do you think you're going? Aren't you even polite enough to greet an old friend?” He sneered.

She pulled her arm free of his grasp. “I would most certainly greet an old friend _if_ I saw one.”

Arya grinned. Oh, Joffrey was a little snot but he was an amateur when it came to haughty disdain. Sansa was a professional at putting on airs. There was no way he could match her.

Sansa put her nose in the air as if she were a queen and again tried to move past her former boyfriend. He once again reached out and grabbed her. “Not so fast!” He gripped her hard enough that she cried out. “You can’t talk to me like that!” He said rudely.

Arya had enough of him. From what she’d gathered, he’d been nothing but horrible to Sansa ever since they’d started dating. “I’d advise you to let go of my sister. Are you stupid? She’s already told you to get lost.”

He dropped Sansa’s arm and curled his lip at Arya. “You! I thought you might be locked up somewhere by now. You and your stupid dog should have both been put down. As far as I’m concerned, the both of you are rabid.”

Arya laughed in his face and bared her teeth. Her dog, Nymeria, had bit the creep once and there had been a hell of a mess over the incident. It was his own fault. She took Sansa’s arm and they turned away from him.

“You’re both just some scroungy, wolf bitches anyway. Why don’t you go back to the middle of nowhere way up North where you came from? You don’t belong around here with your ridiculous folktales and legends of white walkers, waargs, giants and mystical crying trees. You people are pathetic.”

Arya turned back around. “I’d watch what I said if I were you. I wouldn't be so sure that those things aren't real. Unlike you idiots from the south; the North remembers.” Arya’s eyes flashed as she shoved him into the pool without warning.

Margaery and Jeyne were suddenly by Sansa’s side and whisked her away. Arya glanced around angrily. She was waiting to see if anyone else had anything to say because she was ready to take care of them too. Joff came up from under the water and was cursing and spluttering. Arya caught sight of the Hound over by the French doors. He was looking right at her. She boldly marched past him in a fit of temper as she followed her sister into the house. Sandor couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Joffrey yelled from the pool, “Go after her, Clegane! Don’t let her get away!”

Sandor went after the feisty girl. He caught up to her in the hallway. “Miss Stark.”

She turned to look at him. “Mr. Clegane.” She put her hands on her hips as her chin rose defiantly.

Gods, he admired her. “Miss Stark, I think we should have a word.”

“Oh, yeah? What are you going to do, rough me up?” She answered with a challenge in her eye.

“I doubt that will be necessary.” He put his hand on her elbow and escorted her to the nearest closed door off the kitchen. It turned out to be a spacious laundry room. He flipped on the light switch and motioned for her to go in first. Arya briefly hesitated but she went inside. He followed her and closed the door behind him.

Arya leaned against a sturdy wooden table which she assumed was for folding laundry. She crossed her arms and waited to hear what the Hound had to say.

Sandor took in her tight little jean shorts and her red and white striped nautical top. It was cut low and laced up with a string and tied into a little knot. For some reason, his eyes were irresistibly drawn to that knot. His must have looked at it just a little too long because she put her hand up and covered the area self-consciously.

“Miss Stark,” He began, “You realize I am Joff’s bodyguard. I am supposed to be protecting him.”

“Good luck with that. It must be a full-time job. People must be waiting in line to get to him.” She huffed. “Besides, he asked for it. He’s lucky I didn’t actually hurt him.”

“I know that. I just think it would be best to avoid any future confrontations with him. He can be pretty nasty.”

She cocked her eyebrow. “Do you think I’m afraid of him?”

He sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. “You remember him from when he was younger. You don’t know what he’s like now. He’s even worse than before.”

“Someone should have taught him some manners a long time ago.” She frowned. “My sister isn’t with him any longer but I suppose they have a lot of the same friends so they still might end up at the same places.”

He looked unhappy. “Would you give me a chance to intervene the next time?”

She looked him over from head to foot and then back up again. “Why should I? Why should I give up the satisfaction of putting him in his place?” Her eyes narrowed but then she thought better of it and acquiesced. “Sure, I’ll let you give it a try but I’m not going to stand by and let him continue to abuse my sister like that.”

“I understand.”

“Do you?”

“I think I do.”

She looked him over again. He was awfully big and powerfully built. She remembered him from when she was a little girl. The first time she’d ever seen him was when he’d accompanied Robert Baratheon to Winterfell. He had been riding one of her brother’s horses and she thought he was magnificent. Other people were intimidated by him and horrified because of his scarred face. His face didn’t bother her. Why should it? Even before she overheard their Uncle Petyr tell Sansa what had happened to him, she had understood that it wasn’t his fault that he looked that way. She knew he must have suffered. She saw the way people turned away from him, yet he still held his head up high.

She began to play with the end of the strings that tied up the lacing between her breasts. “Are we through here? I need to find Sansa and make sure she’s alright.”

His eyes were on her fingers as she twisted the knot. It took him a beat before he answered. “We're done.”

Arya's eyes lit up mischievously. “What would it take for you to let me go?”

What was she talking about? He wasn’t stopping her from leaving. She glanced from him to the door and then back to him again. He didn’t understand what she meant.

She reached out and took hold of his arms and backed him up into position so that he blocked the door as he stood facing her. Then she stepped back. “What would it take for you to let me go?” She repeated as she lifted her eyebrow suggestively.

Oh! He thought he understood her now. He folded his arms across his big chest. He looked down on her from his great height. “What will you give me, Girl? What’s in it for me?”

“I don’t know. What do you want?” She looked at him with her big grey eyes and actually fluttered her eyelashes.

He swallowed. He knew she was teasing him but he wondered if she actually had any idea how tempting she was. “I want you to stop playing with that string and untie it for me.” He glanced at it and then looked back into her eyes.

She appeared a little startled but she recovered quickly. “Fine.” She lifted her chin up and spoke playfully. “Oops, the knot is too tight. Whatever shall I do? I may need a big, strong man like you to give me a hand. That is, if it's not too much trouble.”

Sandor's mouth went dry and he suddenly felt as if he couldn’t get enough air. He took a step forward and untied the knot with his deft fingers. He paused to gauge her reaction and to give her a chance to tell him to stop but she kept silent. He loosened the string that held her top closed and then slowly pulled the string all the way out which left her cleavage exposed.

She was wearing her swimsuit under her clothes. He wasn’t really seeing anything he couldn’t have seen if she was outdoors in the pool but he was worked up. She could tell by the way he was breathing really hard. Arya was surprised by his reaction, Maybe it was the act of doing something forbidden that had turned him on or the feeling of power she’d given him but whatever it was; it was clear that he liked it. She’d never really had someone this hot and bothered over her before.

She dared to push him a little further. “Is that all you wanted, Mr. Clegane?” She asked coyly and then she bit her bottom lip and held it in her teeth.

By the Gods, Sandor was shook. No woman had ever spoken to him so provocatively before. What did she think she was doing? Surely, she was too young to understand that she was playing with fire. He was aware that she had been gently toying with him but now she’d taken it too far. He decided he would teach her a lesson.

“No, that’s not all I want. I want you to hop up and park your behind on that table.” He barked with authority.

Arya’s eyes widened with surprise.

“Do it now, Girl. We don’t have much time.”

She knew she should be frightened but she wasn’t. She was thrilled. She backed up and sat down on the edge of the laundry table. She couldn’t wait to see what the Hound would do next.

Damn her! She didn’t even appear to be afraid! What kind of a girl was she? Sandor thought to himself as he advanced on her. “I’m going to put my hands on your thighs now.” He waited for her response. He gave her plenty of time to protest and stop what was happening.

“Really?” She gazed at him with mocking, wide-eyed innocence.

She thought it was funny, did she? He would show her! He put a hand on each of her smooth thighs and spread her legs open and stepped in between them. He looked down into her face and his heart began to beat very fast. He could feel the warmth of her supple legs beneath his palms and he could feel himself start to sweat.

He reached up and put his hand around her throat. He stroked his thumb over her fluttering pulse. He could feel that he wasn’t the only one who was excited. He understood they were playing a game but he was concerned because he didn’t know the rules. If he took it too far and she objected, he would be the one to lose everything. If she accused him of an impropriety, not only would he lose his job, he would probably be blacklisted. Who would hire him for security if he couldn’t be trusted to keep his hands to himself? His rational mind was telling him to back down and step away from her but his body was telling him something else entirely.

Suddenly, Sandor’s thoughts were disturbed by voices coming from beyond the door. Someone was asking someone else about Arya. He assumed it was Sansa. He quickly pulled away from the tantalizing young woman. “Girl, I think your sister is out in the kitchen looking for you.”

“She has the worst timing.” Arya pouted. “I better go.” Her lips curved into a promising smile. “We’ll continue this another time when we have a little more privacy.”

Sandor nodded in agreement before he could think straight and she slipped silently out of his grasp.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Comments and Kudos are always welcome!


	3. Don't Stop

Sandor was bench pressing weights at Yoren's Gym in Flea Bottom. It wasn’t the best neighborhood but it was a good no-frills training facility. There was not a yuppie in sight. He could have used the gym at the security complex at the Baratheon estate but he already both worked and lived there and he needed to get away sometimes. He wasn’t particularly fond of his co-workers. Most of them were hard-nosed thugs with inferior social skills but he supposed that was to be expected in his line of work. He didn’t like to think it was possible he could be described in the same way.

Sandor felt a painful spasm in his shoulder. “Help me out, Payne.” He barked. Payne had been spotting for him. He was an alright kid he supposed but his mind tended to wander. Payne helped Sandor lift the bar back into the uprights. Sandor took a couple of deep breaths before he sat up and rubbed his sore shoulder. He’d carried Cersei up to her bedroom last night because she was too drunk to make it on her own. He had felt some pain afterwards but he thought he would be fine. He sighed.

“Hey, did you pull a muscle?” Payne asked.

“I don’t know. It hurts.” He couldn’t remember the kid’s first name. He used to work for Tyrion Lannister awhile ago. He worked for some big, blonde kickboxer now as a personal assistant or something.

“You’re in luck, Mr. Clegane. I know the perfect person to fix you up in no time; a massage therapist. I got hurt about a month ago when I was training with Brienne. I was in pain until I got a therapeutic massage. It made me feel as good as new. It was like a miracle. I'm telling you, it was great!”

Sandor rubbed his neck as he studied Payne. “A massage therapist? How’d you come to know someone like that?”

“Oh, they are a friend of a friend of mine. My friend introduced me. It really did help. I can get you an appointment right now if you want.” Payne offered.

“Well, I don’t know. I’ve never gone to anyone like that before.” Sandor countered.

“It wasn’t awkward or anything. I can promise you that.” Payne took out his phone and started texting. “You’re in luck. How about next week at this time?”

Sandor nodded his head uncomfortably.

“I texted you the name and address of the spa. You’re all set. You can thank me later.” Payne smiled knowingly. “Don’t worry, Arry will take really good care of you.”

. . . . .

Over the course of the week, Sandor’s injured shoulder began to feel much better. He thought about canceling his massage appointment but figured maybe the therapist could work out some of the painful knots that had been bothering him for some time. He really didn’t know what to expect.

Sandor was glad to find that the spa looked nice but not too high class or expensive. He forgot to ask Payne how much this was going to cost him. He stopped at the reception desk and told them he had an appointment with Harry.

“Harry?” The woman behind the desk looked puzzled.

“For a massage.” Sandor clarified.

“Oh, you mean, Arry. Have a seat. I will let her know you are here.” She handed him a clipboard. “You can fill out this health questionnaire while you wait.”

Sandor took a seat. Her? He thought Payne had said the therapist was a man named Harry. At least that’s what he remembered from their conversation. He didn’t know if he was entirely comfortable with a woman massaging him. Although, knowing his luck, she’d be built like a brick house and have arms that were bigger than his own. Sandor smiled to himself.

A few minutes later Sandor was ushered into a small room by a middle-aged woman. She showed him a curtained off section of the room. “You may take your clothes off behind the curtain if you wish. When you are finished, lie down on your back on the table and wait for the therapist to come in for a consultation.” She took a fluffy blue blanket out of a cupboard. “You can cover yourself with this. Any questions?”

Sandor was beginning to get worried. “Uh, do you mean I am supposed to take off all my clothes?”

“Yes. Esossi massage is mostly done in the nude but if you would feel more comfortable, you may keep on your boxers or briefs.” She gave him an encouraging smile and then left him alone.

Sandor was torn. That idiot, Payne, said this was not going to be awkward! Did Payne just fling aside all of his clothing like it was nothing and skip around free-balling? Sandor angrily removed his clothes and lay down on the table and carefully covered himself with the blanket all the way up to his armpits and waited.

There was a soft knock on the door and a voice called, “Are you comfortable and ready for our consultation, Sir?”

“Yes. Come in.”

The door opened. Sandor’s brain short-circuited. Arry was Arya Stark.

Arya’s eyebrows rose into the stratosphere. Then her professionalism took over. “Mr. Clegane. It’s good to see you again. I didn’t know you were a friend of Pod’s.”

“Who’s Pod?”

“Podrick Payne. He referred you to me.”

“Oh. Yeah. We use the same gym and I used to see him at work. I uh, I wasn’t expecting you. I thought he made me an appointment to see a man named Harry.”

Arya smirked. “I’m sorry to disappoint you, Mr. Clegane. I suppose we’ll just have to make the best of it.” She smiled and then picked up the clipboard with his health questionnaire and read over it briefly. “I see you have no health issues except for some discomfort in your trapezius muscles from heavy lifting and some painful knots, is that correct?”

“Mmm.” He cleared his throat. “Yes.” Seven Hells, he couldn’t believe he was lying here naked having a conversation with Arya Stark. What in the world was she doing here?

“Have you ever had an Esossi massage before, Mr. Clegane?”

“No.”

“I will be performing a therapeutic back massage for approximately half an hour. The massage is designed to relax your muscles so it would be best if you didn’t engage in any strenuous activities for the rest of the day. Also, to obtain the maximum benefit of the essential oils, you should leave them on your skin for as long as possible so stay out of the sun because you might get sunburned. If I accidentally apply too much pressure or you are uncomfortable in any way or wish to stop for any reason, please let me know immediately. Is that understood?”

He nodded.

“Please turn over on your chest now and place your face in the recess at the top of the table.” Arya placed the clipboard on a small stand. She lit three candles and turned on some soft, soothing, Myrish folk music. She took another quick peek at him before she turned off the light. He seemed pretty nervous. She took her work very seriously. There would be no teasing. She was going to do her best to reassure him and help him to the utmost of her ability.

Arya straightened and repositioned the blanket until his back was fully exposed. "I'm going to place a rolled up towel under your calves now to take the pressure off your back." She lifted the blanket near his calves to put the towel into place and then covered him once again. Then she stood alongside the table near his waist. “The upper glutes are usually included in a back massage. Are you comfortable with that or would you rather I avoided that area?”

Sandor was getting more and more nervous by the second. No, he was not comfortable with her touching his ass. He was already afraid something unexpected might pop up. He mumbled something unintelligible.

“I’m sorry, was that a yes or no to the glutes?”

“Go ahead.” He heard himself say like a fool.

"I’m going to fold the blanket back now.” Arya turned the blanket under until his firm upper buttocks were exposed. Sandor noticeably tensed. Arya decided to give him a minute or two. She walked over to the small stand and chose a bottle of her own blend of essential oils she had distilled herself. The smell of sandalwood wafted through the air as she poured some into her hands and warmed the oil. She stood alongside Sandor again. “I’m about to begin.” She said quietly. “Think pleasant thoughts. I promise that I will do my best to relax you and help you with your pain.”

Arya began to coat Sandor with the oil. She started at his lower back and swiped her palms over him in an alternating pattern until she worked her way up to his shoulders. Then she slid her hands in a fluid motion down over his spine to his buttocks. Her hands skimmed back up over him to his shoulders and across the tops of his arms and then back down again. She repeated this several times to evenly distribute the oil.

His body was every bit as magnificent as she had imagined. He was one mighty fine man. He had extremely wide shoulders and the muscles in his arms and back rippled underneath his skin. He had a trim, narrow waist and his ass was made up of solid muscle. It was obvious he worked out and took care of his body. She was pleased that he hadn't taken weight training to an extreme level. Bodybuilders looked good but from a health standpoint too much bulk caused a loss in range of motion. She liked her men agile, flexible and quick.

She moved to the head of the table. The first movement she used was a light pressure with the palm of her hands called effleurage. She needed to warm up his skin and make him comfortable with her touch. She put her palms on the back of his neck with her fingers facing each other and massaged up to the base of his scalp. She then ran her hands downward over each side of his broad back as she leaned forward over him and followed the curvature of his spine to his rock solid buttocks again. She dipped her hands alongside his waist and then up over his back until she skimmed over the tops of his shoulders and upper arms then back across his shoulders and up his neck again. She repeated the movements several more times as she enjoyed the feel of his sleek, supple skin under her fingertips.

Sandor was utterly lost. From the moment her hands slid down his back in a warm, smooth caress he knew instinctively that was what he'd been missing his entire life. He realized he needed to be petted and soothed. How could he have lived as long as he had without ever knowing such bliss existed? It shocked him that it had taken this beautiful slip of a girl to show him the way to such pleasure and that she was willing and able to give him what he so desperately needed.

Arya moved from the head of the table to alongside the table again. She then began the petrissage or applied pressure movement. She moved her palm and fingers in a circular motion to knead along the top of his buttock and then off to the side along his waist. She continued to circle her hand all the way up the far side of his back and when she reached the top she slid her hand in a continuous motion down his spine and then she started over and repeated the movement. A flush of warmth washed over her. She had to admit that touching a man like him was extremely enjoyable. When she finished that side, she used the other hand and did the side of his back closest to her.

Sandor couldn’t get over how good she made him feel. Surely, she must be giving him extra special treatment. She couldn’t do this for just any man. He was confident she never gave Podrick Payne a massage such as this because if she had he would have never recommended her to anyone else. He would have selfishly kept her to himself.

Arya placed one hand on top of the other to begin reinforced kneading. She started at his buttock and moved her doubled hands back and forth while applying pressure. She worked into his waist then up his back to his shoulders and then slid her doubled hand down over him and repeated the motions until she’d completed both sides of his back. She wished she could have seen his long legs. She suspected that they were fantastic. She’d already noticed how his strong, muscular thighs bulged against his trousers.

The music flowed over Sandor and he felt as if he were floating outside of his body. He didn't even like soft and slow music but the gentle woodwind instruments and powerful tone combined to resonate inside some primal area of him that he had never been aware of before.

Arya began to work on his lumbar area. She did a light effleurage as she slid her hands over both sides of his lower back and then she used a little more pressure as she continued to massage the area. She used her knuckles in a deep petrissage movement on his buttocks and waist. Sandor groaned at that point. Arya slowed her ministrations.

“Don’t stop.” He rasped. Oh Gods! He was having a rather pressing problem. How he ached for her to bring him off. She’d probably get really angry if he even hinted at such a thing. She wasn’t _that_ type of masseuse. She’d probably slap his face and send him on his way without his clothes.

She finished knuckling him and then went into the wringing movement. She started at his waist and then walked alongside the table and kneaded him with both hands as if she was kneading bread dough. She didn’t pinch him but she used her thumb and finger to gently grip his skin as she worked up one side of his back. Then she moved to his neck and shoulder area and then slid her hands back down and repeated the motions before moving to the side of his back closest to her. He was so soft and pliable. She had an overwhelming urge to touch much more of him than she was already touching.

The rolling movement was next. She began at his waist and pulled his skin up with both hands and then used her thumbs to push the roll of skin back downwards towards the table like a wave. She worked her way up his back and then slid her hands down over him and did the movement a few more times before moving to the opposite side of his back. She couldn’t believe how stupid she’d been. Why hadn’t she suggested a full body massage? It would have been perfectly acceptable. No one would have thought that was inappropriate, would they?

In order to move from his lower back to the upper back, she used some effleurage as a linking movement. She began reinforced kneading in a figure eight movement around both of his shoulder blades and onto the trapezius muscles above them.

Sandor licked his lips. “Mmm, mmm.”

Arya listened as the big, scary dog began to hum beneath her fingertips. She was certain he didn't realize he was doing it. It gratified her that she was so obviously pleasing him. He'd taken to being touched very well. She had been afraid that he wouldn't be able to relax and let himself go. She knew what it was like to always be on guard. Trauma had taken so much away from her sense of safety. She imagined it had done the same to him. She wondered if he had to work as hard as she did to keep herself pulled together.

It was time to get down to business and work on his real problem areas. Arya stood alongside the table and reached over Sandor's back and lifted his opposite arm up from the table and placed his hand palm up near his spine. She made sure his elbow was pressed down to the table causing his shoulder blade to be prominently raised upright. She worked underneath the bone with her thumb with the petrissage movement to relieve the tension there. Then she used both hands to thoroughly massage over his shoulder blade in a circular motion and then all around it and over it. She replaced his arm alongside his body and then put his other arm into position and did the other shoulder blade.

The haunting sound of the foreign music and the smell of the sweet and woody scented oil she used, the darkness and the flickering candlelight were all combining to render him defenseless and open under her masterful hands. He liked her grey eyes, her face and her body. He liked the way she teased him. He liked the way she handled Joff. He liked the way she handled him. He didn’t think it would take much at all for her to make him sit up and beg for her.

Arya once again moved to the head of the table. She knew he’d probably like this part the best. She leaned forward and began to use the deeper pressure of the petrissage movement in the area right below the base of his neck. She used her thumbs to knead slow and deep and then she worked downward between his shoulder blades and the muscles beside his spine. Then she used some deep circular movements over his trapezius muscles. She concentrated on the knots that were caused from insufficient blood flow and the muscle fibers inability to release toxins. She didn’t want to overwork them. She used her knuckles on the base of his neck and the tops of his shoulders.

“It will take more than one session to dissipate these knots.” She murmured.

As Sandor began to feel his aches lesson and the constant pain and tension he'd been feeling for years start to drain away he couldn't stop his soft grunts of pleasure. He hoped he wasn't making a fool out of himself. He tried to bite his lips and hold back.

Arya slowed. "Am I hurting you?"

"No. It feels . . . it feels . . . good."

She laughed lightly and whispered, "I'll let you in on a little secret; it's supposed to feel good. It's alright."

She smoothed her hands over his shoulders and then finished with the lighter strokes of the effleurage. She slid her hands down the curve of his back to his buttocks, dipped down over his sides and then back up again over his shoulders and upper arms and the back of his neck. Each stroke became lighter and lighter as she went over him again and again. To signal that she was about finished, she lightly reached down and spread her fingers open as she clawed up his back somewhat like a delicate kitten while alternating between each hand with feather-like strokes.

When she was finished, she reached down and pulled the blanket all the way up to the top of his shoulders and smoothed her hands over the top of the blanket one last time. Although, she’d never done it before to another client, Arya leaned all the way down until the side of her face rested on the back of his head and then she lightly squeezed him in a gentle hug.

Arya’s mouth went dry as she realized she wanted to so more than just hug him. She turned on the light and blew out the candles. She had her massage license and certification for a little over a year and had worked on and off part-time. She didn’t do it because she needed the money. She did it because it felt good to help people. She had never been over her head with a client before. Judging by the way she was feeling now, she knew she was in way over her head with this client. She quickly slipped out the door before she said or did something inappropriate.

Sandor floated in a complete state of tranquility. He had never trusted someone like he had trusted her. He wanted to lie on the table and let the Stark girl touch him for the rest of his life. No one had ever made him feel like she had. He wasn’t even embarrassed by his pressing problem anymore. He rationalized it was a natural reaction and he was at peace with it.

Eventually, he pulled himself together enough to get up and get dressed. He sat on the table and waited for Arya to return. There was a knock on the door but it was the middle-aged woman who came into the room. She turned the music off and handed him a bottle of water.

“Arry says to make sure to drink plenty of water for the rest of the day to flush out the toxins released by the massage. You may follow me back to the reception desk now, Sir.”

Sandor followed the woman. He didn’t see Arya anywhere. He felt abandoned and alone. Of course, she wasn't there. Why should she be? This whole entire thing he thought they had going on was all in his head. She was young and beautiful and smart. What could she ever possibly want with a man like him? Sandor paid for the massage and went out to the parking lot and got into his SUV.

A sudden knock on his window startled him. It was Arya. He powered down his window but he kept his eyes forward. He couldn’t look at her.

“Sandor?”

He flinched when she called him by his name.

“Sandor.” She tried again. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have run away. I feel stupid. I just . . . you . . . you didn’t do anything wrong. It was me. You know I’m licensed and board certified and there are certain rules and regulations put in place in the massage therapy industry to protect clients and therapists.”

Sandor turned to look at her.

Arya frowned. “I mean, it’s not your fault I was tempted to break every single one of those rules.”

A beautiful smile slowly spread across Sandor Clegane’s face.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Comments and Kudos are always welcome!


	4. Everybody was Kung Fu Fighting

Sandor couldn’t stop smiling. He smiled all the way home to the Baratheon security complex where he lived. He walked in the door and smiled at his co-workers, Boris Blount, Arys Oakheart and his boss, Barristan Selmy. He even greeted them pleasantly. As he walked down the hallway towards his room, he could even be heard whistling. The three men stared at each other in shock.

Sandor closed his room-darkening blinds, slipped off his clothes and got into bed to take a nap. He thought about Arya’s confession. Apparently, she’d had a hard time keeping it professional. He hoped that meant she had wanted to touch him very inappropriately because that was exactly what he wanted to do to her. He'd already spent a considerable amount of time picturing her naked ever since he'd kissed her in the ladies restroom.

Sandor fell asleep and dreamed that Arya would become his girlfriend and she would fall head over heels in love with him then they would go on a romantic getaway somewhere secluded. He would tell her he loved her too and then they would go at it non-stop day and night for forty-eight hours straight. Of course, they would take breaks here and there because they would need to eat to keep up their strength. He wasn’t completely without mercy.

When he woke up he laughed at himself for his silly dream. He couldn't deny that it had pleased him. He could still smell the scent of the essential oils she’d used on him. It brought back the memory of how good she’d made him feel. He thought about Arya’s hands all over him. He was still smiling. He couldn’t believe he’d actually had the presence of mind to ask her out after her confession and that she’d said yes. He must be the luckiest man in all of Westeros.

. . . . .

Arya had just let her new friend, Shireen Baratheon, into Sansa’s condo. “Oh, wow! Your dress is super sexy! I didn’t realize you were going to dress up like that.” Arya said as she offered Shireen a lemonade.

“Well, what are you planning on wearing?" Shireen asked.

Arya looked down at her shorts, red T-shirt and sneakers. “Uh, this is what I was planning on wearing.”

Shireen frowned. “Oh, no. I didn’t know this was going to be so casual. I’m overdressed.”

“No. You’re fine. I’m probably the one who is underdressed. Why don’t you help me pick out something better to wear, Shireen?”

Arya and Shireen dug through both Arya’s and Sansa’s closets until they came up with something. It was good that Sansa wasn’t home. She’d have thrown a fit. Shireen helped Arya put her hair up in an upsweep and chose some of Sansa’s gold hoop earrings for her to wear. They stood back looking critically at Arya’s appearance in Sansa’s full-length mirror.

Arya turned this way and that. “I don’t know. I feel funny. The guys are probably going to laugh at me.”

Shireen giggled. “Trust me, Arya. They aren’t going to laugh at you. They’ll be too busy picking their jaw up off the floor and stumbling over their own feet to fight over who gets to be your escort.”

“My escort? No one’s going to be my escort. Gendry and Hot Pie are just my friends.”

“Mmm.” Shireen gave Arya a nudge. “I thought I heard you and Gendry had a thing.”

Arya blushed. “Not anymore. That was a long time ago.”

Shireen was right. Gendry smiled like a big fool and gave them both a really loud wolf-whistle. Hot Pie just stared at them with his mouth open. Gendry’s friend, Pod, walked around the two women in a circle, admiring them from their head to their feet.

“I hope you don’t mind that we brought Pod.” Gendry said as he shoved Pod out of the way.

They were lucky they got to the Alibi just a little early so they were able to get a table. It got really crowded not long after they arrived. Gendry asked Arya to dance and Pod asked Shireen to dance.

Arya reached out and grabbed Hot Pie’s arm. “Come on, Hot Pie.”

He shook his head. “No, that’s alright.” He usually refused to dance until Arya made him. She was pretty sure he wanted to but he was bashful.

“I might need your help if I fall down.” Arya pointed to the tall Christian Louboutin heels she was wearing.

“Oh, I wouldn’t want you to get hurt, Arry.”

. . . . .

Sandor was angry. His day off was tomorrow and tomorrow night he was supposed to take Arya out on their date. Normally, he’d be at the Red Keep right now keeping an eye on Cersei. She usually went to bed fairly early and then he could doze off. He didn’t want to be exhausted tomorrow. Instead, Cersei’s son, Tommen, had wanted to go out clubbing. Tommen’s regular security team was short a member because Oakheart had been goofing around with Meryn Trant and he’d fallen and hurt his ankle. Now Sandor was stuck here at a loud, hot nightclub for who knew how long. He wasn’t even allowed to sit down. He scowled up at Tommen who was up on the dance floor. Sandor was leaning against the wall. Tommen really wasn’t a bad kid. He supposed it wasn’t his fault.

Sandor scanned the crowd. He saw Tommen’s cousin, Shireen, dancing with Podrick Payne of all people. Sandor shook his head. He caught sight of a dark-haired girl dancing near Shireen. It was Arya! She was really shaking it and she was dancing with two men. She was wearing a coral satin Asian-inspired dress and it was short. It was so short that Sandor’s eyes about popped out of his head.

The tall, dark-haired man with her put his hands on her hips and she was laughing and teasing him by swaying her hips in an over-exaggerated manner. The man got closer and nuzzled her neck! She laughed and pulled away from him and she danced in a circle with her arms in the air around the other, rather chubby man. He hoped for poor Tommen’s sake that the rest of his security detail was keeping an eye on him because Sandor wasn’t able to take his eyes off Arya.

Shireen danced closer to Arya and took her arm and leaned close to her ear so she could be heard. “Oh, look, there’s my cousin, Tommen. Do you remember him? Let’s go say hello.” She pointed towards him.

Arya glanced at him and then she immediately did a sweep around the room with her eyes for his security team on the off chance . . . Oh! Sandor _was_ here and he was looking right at her. She gave him a little wave. He didn’t wave back. She wondered what his problem was.

Shireen dragged her over to Tommen and he grabbed both Shireen’s and Arya’s hands and danced with the both of them and then he insisted they sit with him at his table. The music was so loud he had to get really close to Arya to ask her about herself since they’d last seen each other about six years ago. Tommen was as sweet and friendly as ever and Arya didn’t want to hurt his feelings so she talked to him until some of his friends came back to his table. What she really wanted to do was check on Sandor.

Sandor watched Tommen enviously. Oh great. Now Arya was thick as thieves with Tommen. Sandor groaned. He might as well kiss his fantasies good-bye. The day he got Arya alone and naked was just a product of his fevered imagination. It was never going to happen.

Arya was finally able to get away and made her way over to Sandor. “Hello.”

“I’m working.” He said rudely.

Her face fell. “Oh. Well, excuse me.” She turned and went back to her dark-haired young man.

Sandor realized he was a jealous idiot. She’d tried to talk to him and he had pushed her away but she had hurt his feelings. He really wasn’t anything special to her. Of course, she must have dates for every night of the week.

Arya ignored Sandor after that. She got up and danced with her friends and with Tommen and his friends too. Whenever she did take a peek at him though, he was still watching her. It made her feel a little better.

Shireen had been talking to one of Tommen’s friends. Arya felt a little bad for Pod because she thought Pod might have a little crush on Shireen. After awhile she noticed Shireen was back at their table with Hot Pie. Hot Pie had his arm around her and appeared to be comforting her and she looked like she was crying. Arya had lost Gendry on the crowded dance floor so she left without him to find out why Shireen was upset.

Arya sat down. “What’s wrong?”

“Everything’s fine. He’s just a creep. It doesn’t bother me.” Shireen answered.

Arya spun around in her chair to glare at the man who had been talking to Shireen. “What did he do?” Arya persisted.

“It’s embarrassing.” She whispered.

Arya looked into Shireen’s eyes. “It’s alright. You don’t have to tell me if you would rather not.”

Shireen rubbed her eyes. “He said I was a sweet girl but it was a shame no one would ever want to be seen with me because of my lizard face.”

“What!” Arya was indignant. “He must be drunk out of his mind to say something so . . . horrible!” Shireen had psoriasis on her face but that was through no fault of her own. “There is nothing wrong with you, Shireen. You are a decent, kind person and you are very pretty. Who is that creep, anyway?”

“His name is Hyle.”

“Well, if anyone around here has something wrong with them, it’s Hyle!” Arya exclaimed. He was going to have a lot more wrong with him before the night was over, Arya vowed to herself.

Hot Pie got over his bashfulness long enough to ask Shireen to dance. Arya continued to sit at their table alone while her temper simmered and she waited for just the right opportunity. It took about fifteen minutes but finally that ass, Hyle, got up and headed for the restroom. For once, Sandor wasn’t watching. Arya slipped her heels off and left them under the table as she got up and followed after the soon to be regretful Hyle.

Sandor glanced back at Arya’s table and she was gone. He looked around and he spotted her at the last possible second as she pulled the door to the men’s room open and went inside. Shit! He spoke into his headset. “This is Clegane. I’ll be in the restroom.” He alerted the security team of his absence and turned off the mic as he hurried after Arya.

Sandor pushed the door open and found chaos. Arya was high kicking a man in the face while two other men were trying to grab hold of her. She spun around and elbowed another one under his chin. A fourth man, Tommen’s friend, was rolling around on the floor holding his injured manhood. The last man thought twice about what he was getting into and backed up against the wall with his hands held up in surrender.

“Get up!” She yelled to the man rolling on the floor. “You like inflicting pain. Let’s see how you like it!”

“Girl!” Sandor roared.

“It was her! She attacked that man!” The cowardly one shouted.

Sandor charged in and picked up Arya by her waist and carried her out of the restroom under his arm. There was an empty service hallway nearby and Sandor ducked down it. He set Arya on her feet. “What in the Seven Hells were you doing!”

“Nothing. The floor was wet. He slipped and fell.” She yelled right back.

“I saw you fighting!”

“Who are you going to believe? Me or your own eyes?”

Sandor was trying to be stern but he blew it when he laughed. Then he got serious again. “Are you alright? Did they hurt you?” Sandor had his hands on her shoulders against the wall and he looked down over her for injuries.

“I’m fine. Now.” She smirked. She reached up and grasped the lapels on his suit jacket. I’m not letting you go until you give me something I want.”

Sandor raised his good eyebrow. “What is it that you want, Girl?”

Arya bit her bottom lip and then grinned. “I think you know.”

Sandor picked her up and she wrapped her legs around him just below his Kevlar vest. He pinned her body to the wall and kissed the fiery girl passionately. Damn, she made his blood hot.

“Oh, no! He’s attacking her!” Someone yelled.

Arya and Sandor both turned to look. Gendry, Pod, Hot Pie and Shireen were all crowded into the hallway with them.

“Do I look like I’m being attacked?” Arya said tartly.

Gendry ignored her. He looked ready to fight. “You let go of her this instant! I’m going to take you apart!” He grabbed hold of Arya and tried to pull her out of Sandor’s arms.

Sandor let her go and Gendry put her back down on her feet. “Did he hurt you?” He gave Sandor a scorching look.

“No, he thinks he rescued me.”

Pod looked at Sandor and shook his head. “Wow, how come I never get to rescue any girls?”

“Arya!” Shireen exclaimed. “Hot Pie saw you being dragged into the hallway by someone. He brought us all to help you but then we saw Hyle out there complaining that some girl had kicked him. Did you get into a fight with Hyle because of me?”

“Hyle slipped.” Arya said firmly.

Pod snorted. “His nuts slipped on your foot as you kicked him, you mean.”

Hot Pie piped up. “That other guy is out there hollering that you attacked him in the restroom, Arry. We better go before the police get here.”

“I don’t understand.” Gendry frowned. “Why were you kissing this . . . stranger, Arry?”

Shireen answered helpfully. “Oh, that’s Sandor Clegane, he’s here with Tommen. He’s security for Tommen's family.”

Sandor nodded towards Hot Pie. “That kid is right. You all better leave. I’ll take care of what’s his name.”

“Hyle.” Shireen supplied.

“Yeah, I'll take care of Hyle.” Sandor cracked his knuckles.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Comments and Kudos are always welcome!


	5. Are You Ready?

Sandor was nervous. He was at the concierge desk at Arya’s condo. Of course, the staff knew him because of the many times he’d been there working as security for Joffrey when he was dating Sansa. He hadn’t been smart enough to get Arya’s phone number so he was forced to go to the desk to ask for her. The concierge, Mr. Harwin, discreetly phoned Arya.

“Mr. Clegane, Ms. Stark says she will be down momentarily. You may take a seat and wait for her in the lounge.”

Well, he was glad she hadn’t stood him up but at the same time he knew he wasn’t off to the best possible beginning. She hadn’t asked him to be sent up to her condo. He couldn’t help but think she was sending him a message by making him wait downstairs. A message that might be designed to say; not so fast, Mister. Let’s see how this date goes first before I let you into my home. You’re going to have to work for it.

Mr. Harwin was watching him out of the corner of his eye. The concierge knew damn well something was off. For one thing, he was here without Joff. For another, he had asked for Arya and he wasn’t wearing his black security uniform and Kevlar vest. He was wearing dress slacks and a short-sleeved pale grey dress shirt that was open at the neck. He wasn’t sure what he was supposed to wear. Arya had asked to go to some festival down in Braavos Town near the seafront. He’d only been there a few times. He knew it was home to many Braavosi immigrants and the festival was supposed to celebrate their heritage or something.

The elevator opened and Arya stepped out. She was wearing a full-length red kimono. He noted that instead of slippers, she was wearing a pair of black boots with very short square heels. He thought it was an odd combination. She nodded to the concierge and then she smiled at Sandor. Sandor tried to be cool but his heart skipped a beat. She made him a little bit breathless.

He stood up and walked over to greet her. “Hello, Arya. You look nice.” Oh Gods! He was not very original. She must think he was a big dumb oaf.

She lifted her eyebrow. “Hello, Sandor. Are you ready?”

Oh, he was ready alright. He was more than ready. He didn’t say that of course. He just nodded.

He was shocked when Arya took hold of his arm. He glanced over at Mr. Harwin and saw that he appeared highly amused. Sandor scowled at him before he turned back to Arya and escorted her towards the door. The doorman held the door open for them and they walked out into the warm summer evening.

Sandor was maneuvering his SUV through traffic as they headed to the festival. “Was I supposed to make a reservation for dinner? I wasn’t sure.” Sandor questioned Arya with some concern.

She turned to look at him. “No, I took care of it. Have you ever been to the Uncloaking of Uthero festival before?”

“Uh, no.”

“It’s also called the Unmasking.” He could feel her looking at him closely. “It’s the main social event in Braavos. I was happy to find that it was celebrated here in King’s Landing too.”

“No, I really don’t know anything about it.”

“You do know the Free City of Braavos was founded by a large group of slaves that overpowered their Valyrian captors and took control of the ships that were transporting them. The Moonsinger priestesses prophesied where they could find the sanctuary that was to become Braavos.”

“Yes, I knew the part about the slaves founding Braavos.”

“The existence of the city was kept secret for over a century. Then the Sealord, Uthero Zalyne, revealed the secret to the rest of the world by sending envoys from the Iron Bank to Valyria to pay settlements to the grandchildren of the owners of the ships Braavos’ founders had seized. Most importantly, they did not make any reparations for the value of the slaves. People are not chattel to be owned. Then the Sealord sent forth ships throughout the world announcing the existence and location of Braavos and invited men of all nations to celebrate the 111th anniversary of the city’s founding. They’ve celebrated it ever since.”

Sandor nodded. “So the festival is commemorating the revelation of the city?”

“Yes. The Unmasking is held every year in Braavos. It is ten days of feasting and revelry where everyone wears masks and at midnight on the tenth day, the Titan of Braavos roars and all the celebrants remove their masks together."

“The Titan of Braavos is the fortress that resembles a gigantic stone warrior and it guards the harbor entrance to Braavos, isn’t it? Does it still roar after all this time?”

“Oh, yes. It still roars.”

“What happens after the Unmasking?”

“Everyone kisses; especially the lovers.”

Sandor thought about the kissing lovers. “Is tonight the tenth night of the festival?” He tried to ask innocently.

Arya laughed. “No, tonight is only the third night of the festival. The tenth night is next Saturday night.”

Damn. He wondered if she would go with him on the tenth night. He also wondered how she seemed to know so much about Braavos. “Have you been to Braavos, Arya?”

She turned to look at him again and answered rather somberly. “Yes. I’ve been to Braavos, Sandor.”

They had trouble finding a parking space. Sandor was glad Arya was wearing sensible footwear because they were going to have to walk quite a ways. Arya took a purple, bedazzled mask out of her pocket and flipped down her visor and looked into the mirror as she tied it on. She turned and grinned at Sandor mischievously.

“How do I look?” The mask was exquisitely beautiful. It wasn’t a full mask. It only covered her eyes.

“You look mysterious and exotic.” Sandor was quick to assure her.

“I’m glad you like it. Let’s see how you like yours.” She pulled a second mask from her pocket and handed it to him.

His mask was midnight black and embroidered with silver thread. He stared at it in surprise. He pulled down his visor and used his own mirror to see himself as he tied it on. “How do I look?” The mask was very nice but he felt a little silly wearing it.

“You look incredibly sexy, Sandor. Black is most definitely your color. Is it getting warm in here?”

He stared at her incredulously. Then he glanced at himself in the mirror again. He supposed he didn’t look all that bad.

Sandor got out of the vehicle to open Arya’s car door but she was already standing outside on the sidewalk by the time he reached her. He stood next to her as she untied the sash to her kimono and slipped it off and placed it on the seat. He was shocked. She was wearing gauzy purple pantaloon-style trousers and a low-cut canary yellow top. She was kind of dressed as a pirate only in the most flamboyant, outrageously, bright colors imaginable. Even more surprising was that she had a sword strapped to her vivid orange belt.

Sandor looked around nervously. He was worried it wasn’t legal for her to wear the sword in public. “Is that a real sword, Arya?”

She unsheathed the sword and held it out for his inspection. It was real alright.

“This is Needle. My brother Jon gave it to me a long time ago.”

Now that he thought about it, he did remember she had a sword when she was a little girl. “Oh, I think I’ve seen you with it before. Is it the same sword?”

“Yes. I still have my Needle.” She held the sword reverently for a moment before she sheathed it once again.

Sandor watched her apprehensively. “Are you sure you are allowed to carry that thing?”

“The Braavosi are known for a few things; ethnic diversity, religious tolerance, the seafaring trade and their valiant swordsmen. Trust me when I tell you there will be plenty of people wearing a sword.”

Arya had been right about the sword. Sandor was sitting on the balcony of a lovely little seafood restaurant as they watched the throngs of revelers pass by below them. Many people were wearing swords. The majority of them were men but there were a few women as well. They were all dressed in the same garish fashion as Arya. She informed him that the swordsmen were called bravos. She also pointed out the people wearing charcoal gray, deep purple and dark midnight blue were boasting of their wealth. Everyone was wearing a mask. Not only were there plenty of people with Braavosi heritage but there was also many obviously Westerosi people in attendance. Sandor couldn’t believe he had never heard about the festival before.

The dinner menu was in Braavosi so Arya translated it for Sandor. They settled on a delicious appetizer of sardines dredged in cornmeal and fried to crispy perfection in hot pepper oil. For the entrée they had oysters, clams and cockles over saffron buttered rice. They finished it all off with a dessert of grilled pears drizzled with honey and sprinkled with nuts. Arya ordered for them in Braavosi.

“Arya, I can’t remember the last time I enjoyed a meal this much. I’m glad you brought me here. I guess it is good to try something new.” Sandor admitted.

Arya smiled at him. “It was good, wasn’t it?”

After dinner, they walked around and looked at all the Braavosi arts and crafts that were for sale and they watched demonstrations of how the things were made. Then they watched some street performers singing and dancing in traditional costumes. They stopped to watch a play for about a minute before Arya got angry and pulled Sandor away.

“What’s wrong?” Sandor asked. The play was in Braavosi so he hadn’t understood what it was about. All he knew was it appeared to be set in medieval times and he had heard the name, Queen Cersei.

“That was a play about the Baratheons if you must know. It is loosely based on the War of the Five Kings. It unfortunately includes my ancestors as well. It’s called the Bloody Hand. It’s full of historic inaccuracies and mischaracterizations.” She huffed.

Sandor took in her flushed face. How dare they insult Arya’s ancestors. As far as the Baratheon's ancestors were concerned . . . well, it didn't bother him all that much. Then another thought occurred to him. He had initially thought that Arya probably could only speak Braavosi well enough to order their dinner but now he realized she must be proficient in the language.

“Arya, you told me you had been to Braavos. I assumed you just visited as a tourist but that’s not the case is it?”

“Let’s go find a place to dance. I feel like cutting loose.”

When Arya said she wanted to cut loose, she really meant it. They followed the sound of guitars, woodwind instruments and drums until they found a street dance in a square full of young people moving to a pulsating beat. He remembered how jealous he was of the way Arya was dancing with her friends. If he had seen her dancing with them the way she was dancing with him now he would have gone up and carried her off the dance floor. She was grinding on him in a most wonderfully filthy way. He was holding on to her gyrating and mesmerizing hips. He was going to make damn sure she didn’t slip away and do this to some other man because if she did he was going to bust that man’s teeth.

Arya finally had enough and they found a park bench. Sandor sat down and Arya sat on his lap. She put her arms around his neck and he put one arm around her back and the other arm across her legs while they caught their breath.

Arya was looking at him critically. “Sandor, did you trim your beard for me?”

Sandor blushed. “Um.”

“Did you think I might kiss you again?”

“Well, I was hoping you would.” He answered her honestly.

Arya leaned forward and kissed Sandor very tenderly. She pulled back and studied his face once again.

Sandor turned his head away. He suddenly remembered what he looked like. He’d almost forgotten he was a burnt and ugly thing. He wondered how she could stand it.

“Sandor.”

“Hmm?”

“I want to look at you. It pleases me to look at you.”

He turned back to look at her. “Why would you say something like that, Girl?”

She traced her fingers on his perfectly formed, full lips. “Because it’s true.”

He took hold of her hand and kissed her fingertips almost shyly.

Arya tucked her face into the side of his neck and squeezed him very tightly.

Sandor eventually shifted his legs and Arya sat up. “Come on, it’s time to head over to the Moon Pool.”

. . . . .

The Moon Pool put Sandor on edge. It was obvious it was an inherently dangerous place. Apparently, it was where the Braavosi swordsmen congregated to test each other’s strength and skill. There were at least six men fighting each other with many more waiting for their turn. An audience of about twenty men encircled the event. It was awash in swirling, clashing colors as the men spun around as steel met steel. 

As far as Sandor could tell, they would provoke each other with a deliberate insult. The most common argument was whether or not the Black Pearl or the Nightingale was the most beautiful courtesan in all of Braavos. Sometimes all it took was for one of them to look at another and tap their sword as a challenge. That’s what one of them did to Arya.

Sandor immediately stood between Arya and the man. “She’s just a spectator.” He barked.

The man looked Sandor up and down disdainfully. “She’s wearing a sword, isn’t she? That means she’s available to fight.”

Before Sandor realized what was happening, Arya had stepped around him. “He’s right. Besides, I do know how to fight. This should be fun.” Arya said as she unsheathed Needle.

Arya and the man bowed to each other. Then they stood sideways and it was on. Sandor didn’t know what to do. He had the terrible feeling that if he stepped in the rest of the men would not stand for his interference. Worse, he was afraid Arya would be very angry at him for spoiling her good time. He felt helpless as he stood to the side anxiously and waited for a signal from her that she wanted his help.

Eventually, he became aware of a quiet murmuring going around the circle. The other men had stopped fighting and it was only Arya and her opponent who were still engaging each other. Sandor became a little less upset when he saw how well Arya was handling herself.

Sandor could plainly hear a man near him talking to his companion. “Do you see her! Oh my God! It can’t be her!”

“I don’t know. How could it be? What would she be doing here?”

“I know it doesn’t make any sense but just look at her skill. Look at her go!”

A second man joined the fight. Arya appeared to be able to handle him without much difficulty.

Another man spoke up. “She’s certainly small enough to be her and she has dark-hair like her.”

“Lots of women are short and have dark-hair. It doesn’t mean it’s her.”

“Open your eyes. Can’t you see how she’s just playing with them? It’s exactly like a cat with a mouse."

The murmuring became louder.

“Could it really be possible? She is _extremely_ good.”

“Why don’t you challenge her next? You can get in there really close and see if she has grey eyes. They say she has grey eyes.”

The man scoffed. “I’m good but I’m not that good. You get in close.”

“She can’t be the Cat of the Canals. It’s not possible.”

“Why can’t she be? You can’t believe everything you hear, you know that, right?”

Someone across the circle called out. “Cat of the Canals.”

Someone else repeated it. Suddenly the group of bravos were chanting, “Cat of the Canals, Cat, Cat, Cat.”

Arya was through playing. She quickly and decisively defeated one challenger and then the other. She raised Needle high into the air. The chanting suddenly stopped. Arya lowered her sword and pointed it at the crowd as she slowly pivoted around in a circle. She stopped and held completely still. There was a palpable hushed anticipation from the onlookers.

Arya’s voice rang out. “Swift as a deer, quick as a shadow; fear cuts deeper than swords. Quick as a snake, calm as still water; fear cuts deeper than swords. Strong as a bear, fierce as a wolverine; fear cuts deeper than swords.” She stopped and spun around once again, eyeing each and every person in the crowd. “The man who fears losing has already lost.” She bowed deeply. “Valar morghulis.”

Every single man there bowed to her in return. “Valar dohaeris.”

The crowd began to chant, “Fear cuts deeper than swords. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Fear cuts deeper than swords. Cat of the Canals, Cat, Cat, Cat.”

Arya sheathed her sword and walked up to Sandor very calmly and took his arm. She led him away from the Moon Pool and into the darkness.

After they were seated back inside Sandor’s SUV and they had removed their masks, Sandor turned to Arya. “Where did you learn to fight like that? What was all that about? Who is the Cat of the Canals?”

Arya smiled enigmatically. “I’ve been fencing since I was nine years old. I’ve gotten fairly good at it if I do say so myself. I’m not sure why they thought I was the Cat of the Canals. She was a street urchin that became a _really_ good swordswoman. Most people tend to believe whatever they want to believe. I just thought it would be fun to play along.”

Sandor regarded her silently as he looked into her Northern grey eyes.


	6. Wanna Bet

When Arya let herself into Sansa’s apartment, she couldn’t help but be a little upset. She was disappointed when she found out Sandor lived in a stupid security building at the Red Keep. She supposed she had assumed he was his own man. She imagined living there must be the equivalent of a grown man living with his mother. She wouldn’t be surprised if he had laundry service, a cafeteria and a janitor. He probably had no idea how to look after himself. She still remembered how embarrassed he was when he had to admit that he wasn’t allowed to have visitors.

She didn’t know why she was angry at him. She wasn’t independent either. She was living with Sansa in her condo and had to basically follow her rules. At least she was allowed to have guests but she knew damn well that Sansa would have an absolute fit if she were to invite Sandor over. As a matter of fact, she was positive she’d have a fit if she knew Arya was interested in him at all. That’s why Arya had no intention of letting Sansa find out about him. She decided that it wasn’t really any of Sansa’s business who she dated anyway.

Arya headed into the kitchen to get a drink. She had just placed her red kimono on the back of the kitchen chair when she looked up and saw Sansa staring at her with her mouth hanging open. “Oh, my Gods! I can’t believe you went out in public like that!”

Arya glanced down at her colorful festival outfit. “You have no idea what you’re talking about. This is the traditional costume of a Braavosi swordsman.”

“Braavosi swordsman? I know you spent a long time in Braavos but honestly, you look like a reject from a circus.” Sansa giggled. “Or a deranged, colorblind pirate!”

Arya was not amused. “Ha, ha. I thought you considered yourself to be a person of good conscience. You do realize it’s no longer acceptable to make fun of another person’s culture.” Arya huffed.

“Oh, come on. I’m not making fun of someone else’s culture. I’m making fun of you. Besides, you’re not from Braavos; to the best of my recollection, you’re from up North just like me. Playing dress-up isn’t going to change that.”

Arya gave her sister a side-ways look. Maybe she was right. As much as she had tried to change herself and adapt to her circumstances in the past; deep down, she had always known exactly who she was and where she came from.

“Where did you go, anyway? A costume party?”

“No, I went to the Uncloaking of Uthero festival in Braavos Town.”

Sansa eyed Needle. “They let you walk around with your sword there?”

“Of course. Swordsmen are revered in Braavos.”

“Ah, now I get it.” Sansa smiled knowingly. “You went to the festival to get all sweaty and have a good time kicking some ass.”

Arya tried really hard not to laugh. “No, that’s not the only reason I went to the festival.”

“Did you make Gendry dress up like a pirate, too?”

Arya arched her eyebrow. “No, I didn’t.”

. . . . .

Sandor was devastated. Once he was forced to admit he didn’t have his own place, Arya seemed to have decided the evening was over. She’d given him a brief kiss on the cheek and then she’d hopped out of his vehicle and went into her building without another word. She did remember to thank him for dinner at least. He bet that blue-eyed friend of hers that liked to nuzzle her neck had his own apartment.

He wondered if her sister was home and that’s why she didn’t want him there. Not only was he a lot older than her, he was known as the Lannister dog. Maybe she was ashamed to let her sister know she had an interest in him. He caught sight of his face in his rearview mirror. Maybe she was embarrassed to be seen with a man as ugly as he was. Perhaps that was why she wanted to go to the festival. Not only had they both been in disguise; no one had known them there.

Sandor slipped out of his clothes and got into bed. He stared up at the shadows on the ceiling. He could have taken her to a hotel but that didn’t seem like the right thing to do somehow. In his own mind, asking a girl to go to a hotel with you meant you were expecting to have sex. He hadn’t wanted her to think that. Of course, he’d done things like that before and women had asked him to their apartments before but it had everything to do with sex. He didn’t want it to be only about that with her. He wanted something more.

Sandor’s phone interrupted his thoughts. “Hello?”

“It’s me, Arya. I just . . . I think I may have forgotten to tell you had a really nice time tonight.”

Sandor answered cautiously, “I had a nice time too.”

There was an uncomfortable silence.

“I’m sorry if I may have been a little rude. I couldn’t invite you in because of Sansa.”

“Why not? Does she not approve of me?”

“It’s not that.” Although, it was a part of it there was no need to tell him that. “She thinks I’m still a kid. She would have probably sat right between us and behaved as if she were chaperoning us.”

“Maybe you should have a talk with her.”

Arya realized he wasn’t about to accept any lame excuses. “Alright, I will. Are you happy now?” She did intend to talk to her; someday. She wasn’t really lying.

“Hmph.”

“Sandor.”

“What?”

Arya sighed and her voice got all breathy. “I wish you were here right now.”

Sandor smiled to himself in the dark. “You do?”

“Yes, if you were here, you could put your mask back on.”

Sandor swallowed hard. “Oh, and why would you want me to do that, Girl?”

Arya was blushing furiously but he couldn’t see her so she decided to tell him the truth. “I’m not sure but it excited me.”

Sandor’s pulse began to quicken. “It did?”

“Mmm, yes, I wouldn’t mind seeing you in it again. Of course, it’s so hot this summer; I wouldn’t want you to get overheated. Maybe you could just wear the mask and nothing else?”

Sandor smothered a laugh. “Thank you for thinking of my welfare. You are so considerate.”

“Well, heat exhaustion is no joke. It’s a dangerous condition that should be taken very seriously.”

“Oh, am I going to be engaging in some strenuous activity that may cause me to get too warm?”

Arya laughed. “Possibly. If you're doing it correctly, you would certainly get exhausted as well as overheated.”

“And what's the right way to do it, Girl?” Sandor held his breath as he waited for her response.

“Hmm, let me see. There’s this particular film with a very apt name. It’s called the Fast and the Furious. Have you ever heard of it?”

“Yes, I’ve heard of the Fast and the Furious.”

“I’m glad you’ve _heard_ of the Fast and the Furious but more importantly, can you _be_ the fast and the furious?”

“Oh, Girl. Be careful what you wish for because . . ."

"Because what?"

"Because you just might get it.”

. . . . .

Sandor couldn’t believe he’d let Ayra talk him into playing pool with her and her friends. What he wanted most was to get her alone. Instead, he had to put up with Gendry glaring daggers at him whenever Arya wasn’t watching. She had claimed he was just a friend but Sandor wasn’t fooled. Either something had happened between them or Gendry wanted it to. Gendry “accidentally” bumped Sandor’s arm as he was about to take a shot.

“Excuse me.” Gendry said aggressively.

Sandor held his tongue. He didn’t want to get Arya mad at him. Podrick was at another table trying to teach Shireen how to play pool. Arya and Gendry were playing at the table beside him. He was playing Hot Pie. The kid took too long to think about his shots but he was actually a pretty good player. Gendry was good too. He would describe Arya as a fair to middling player. He was just about ready to sink the eight ball and win when Arya leaned over her table and he caught a glimpse of her ass cheek peeking out from under her shorts. He flubbed his shot. Hot Pie went on to win the game as Sandor looked on and contemplated whether or not Arya was actually wearing any underwear.

Arya lost her game and then she and Shireen sat down together and started to talk. Eventually, they all took a seat at the table. Shireen asked Hot Pie about himself.

“I’m a baker. I work at the Crossroads Bakery.”

Sandor turned to stare at him. “The one on the Kingsroad? The one with the delicious croissants?”

Hot Pie smiled sheepishly. “Do you like them? I make them and a whole lot more.”

Sandor nodded his head appreciatively at Hot Pie. “They’re the best.”

“Thanks.”

“I already know Gendry is an artist.” Shireen continued.

“He’s a renowned artist. He’s famous all over King’s Landing and beyond.” Hot Pie announced as he beamed at his friend, Gendry.

Well, I’ve never heard of him, Sandor thought to himself uncharitably.

Arya nodded toward Pod. “Pod’s a personal assistant, Shireen.”

“Yes, I work for Brienne Tarth, the city kickboxing champion. That’s how I met Gendry. He kickboxes too.”

“I’m going into my junior year at KLU.” Shireen sighed. “I’m going to be a teacher. I’m going to stamp out illiteracy.”

“That’s great!” Both Pod and Hot Pie said in unison.

“I have a BA from Lannisport City College in Medieval Studies.” Sandor heard himself say.

Arya stared at him with her mouth open. “Oh, Sandor.” She breathed.

He was slightly annoyed. He didn’t like it that she was so shocked.

“Oh, Sandor,” Arya tried again. “That’s my field of study too. I hope to get the same degree.”

“Really?” He was floored.

“I’m going into my junior year at KLU as well. I studied abroad for awhile.” Arya smiled at Sandor. I think we might have a lot more in common than I thought.” She turned to Shireen. “I can’t wait for school to start. I hope we get to spend some time together on campus.”

Hot Pie and Gendry got up to play a game together so Pod pointed to Sandor with his cue stick and Sandor racked up the billiard balls.

Pod grinned. “I’m still waiting.”

Sandor looked up. “Waiting for what?”

“For you to thank me for introducing you to Arya and her magical hands.” He smirked.

Sandor frowned as he thought about Arya’s hands on the smiling young man. “Thanks, but I had actually met Arya before that.”

“Really? I’m glad to hear that. Now Gendry can lay off me. I made the mistake of telling him I sent you to Arya and he’s been mad at me ever since.”

Sandor glanced over at Gendry. “What’s his problem anyway? Did they used to date?”

“Something like that.” Payne’s smile grew even bigger. He won the coin toss and made the opening break. “Although,” he lowered his voice confidentially, “I heard it was over before it really got started.”

“Hmm.” Sandor wondered if that was a good thing or a bad thing. “What happened?”

“No one really knows. Neither one of them will talk about it.” Pod missed his shot.

Sandor studied the table and indicated which ball he was going to attempt to put into the corner pocket. He hoped that meant Gendry hadn’t been fast and/or furious enough to satisfy Arya.

“Tell me, did you get the regular back massage or the full body massage?” Payne pretended to ask innocently.

Sandor jerked his arm up and overshot. He accidentally knocked both his ball and the cue ball into the pocket. He stared at Payne. “Do you mean to tell me there was more?”

Pod laughed harder. He bet Gendry would be thrilled to hear Clegane hadn’t gotten the full treatment. He couldn’t wait to tell him.

Shireen watched Arya as Arya tried not to stare at Sandor Clegane. She wasn’t very successful. “So, Mr. Clegane rescued you from the fight in the men’s room and now he’s your hero?” She gently teased.

Arya tried really hard not to smile but finally she had to give up. “That’s ridiculous, Shireen. Just because he’s brave and big and strong and built like a . . . a Greek god and he’s got the most dreamy brown eyes doesn’t mean anything special to me.”

“Oh, so it’s his _personality_ that you’re interested in, is it? Or maybe you two can relive the Middle Ages together.” Shireen laughed.

“Don’t tell anyone but he’s not really who people think he is.” Arya whispered.

Shireen put her hand over Arya’s when she saw the tender look on her friend’s face.

“What about Pod? He seems nice.” Arya prodded.

“Yeah, but I heard he’s the constant companion of that kickboxing woman, what’s her name again?”

“Brienne. He only works for her, you know. I don’t really think there is anything there but friendship.”

Shireen frowned. “I’m not sure I’d want to get on the wrong side of her.”

Arya laughed. “I don’t think anyone wants to get on her bad side. I’m not even sure Sandor could go against her and come out unscathed.”

Sandor glanced at Arya when he heard her laugh. He felt odd around her friends. He was almost in his mid-thirties and they were all so much younger. He wondered if they thought of him as some kind of creeper. Although, he was happy that he’d been wrong and she wasn’t ashamed to be seen with him.

He had googled the Cat of the Canals. At first he couldn’t find anything and then when he finally did find something the article had been in Braavosi. Eventually, he found a single article about the Cat in English. It had said she was purported to be the finest swordsman in the Free City of Braavos. No one knew where she came from but it was believed she had grown up on the streets near Ragman’s Harbor. She had been stabbed to death two years ago by a jealous female rival. He couldn’t find a photo of her anywhere. He had thought that was a little odd considering how much everyone loved to take pictures with their phones these days.

Sandor lost the game to Payne. He wasn’t usually this bad. Arya sidled up to him. “How about a game? You’re really not very good, are you? I bet I could even beat you.”

He scowled. “I doubt that.”

“Hmm, is that right? Would you like to put your money where your mouth is and make this interesting, or shut up and go home?”

Sandor eyed the short, cocky girl. “I’m not going anywhere with my tail between my legs, Little Wolf. What are the stakes?”

“Well, Big Dog, how about if I win, you show me what you got and cook me a meal?”

“Done.” Sandor looked down into Arya’s pretty upturned face and wanted to give her a kiss but there were too many people around so he settled for caressing her cheek.

“Well, you never said what you wanted in the very unlikely event that you win.” She said softly.

He rubbed his thumb gently over her delicate cheek. “Why, I’d like some of your professional services, free of charge.”

Arya grinned. “You liked that massage, did you?”

“Aye, I liked it so much that after I win I think I’ll have to insist on a full body massage.” He answered smugly.

“Are you really sure you want to subject yourself to my tender mercies?”

“I’m willing to take my chances.” 

Of course, she beat him. He began to wonder if she had been fooling him all along with her supposed poor performance up until the point she suckered him. He wouldn’t be surprised at all if she had. She’d won the coin toss and he never got to take a single shot after that. He couldn’t help being disappointed. She was across the room whispering something to Payne. He wondered what that was about.

Pod sat down next to Shireen. “Uh, Shireen. Would you like to go have some dinner?”

“Why, Pod, thank you for the offer but I thought we were all going out together in a little while.”

Arya stepped up to the table. “Oh, that’s alright, Shireen. If you want to go out with Pod that’s fine with me. I think Sandor and I will do the same. Isn’t that right, Sandor?”

“Uh, sure.”

Shireen looked uncertain. “Well, I suppose . . .”

Arya cut her off. “Great! Gendry! Hot Pie! We’ll catch you both next time. Goodbye everyone!” Arya took hold of Sandor’s arm and maneuvered him right on out the door.

They strapped themselves into Sandor’s SUV. “Are you sure you know what you’re doing, Girl?”

“What do you mean?”

“Shireen and Payne.”

“I’m sure they wanted to go out together, I just helped them along is all.”

“Well, I’m not so sure. I think Shireen likes your baker friend.”

Arya frowned. “What?”

Sandor started his vehicle before she got out and went back inside the pool hall to interfere some more. “Where do you want to go, Girl?”

Arya smirked. “Why, to the grocery store. Have you forgotten so soon? You’re making us dinner.”

“What, tonight?”

“Haven’t you ever heard the saying, there’s no time like the present? Besides, Sansa’s out of town until tomorrow afternoon.”

She was going to give him heart failure. “Seven Hells! Why didn’t you say something sooner?”


	7. Go Slowly

Mr. Harwin was on concierge duty at the desk. He greeted both Arya and Sandor cordially as they walked past with a couple of bags of groceries. Sandor was standing in the elevator and the last thing he saw before the doors closed was Harwin give him an encouraging nod. Sandor didn’t say anything to Arya but he was oddly cheered by the gesture.

Arya understood right away that Sandor meant business. He was no helpless fool in the kitchen. He made her a delicious Chicken Saltimbocca with a crunchy pea salad. Arya helped by removing the strings from the sugar snap peas and thinly slicing them. She also finely grated some lemon zest and thinly sliced some scallions.

Sandor butterflied two chicken breasts and pounded them until they were thin. He pressed two sage leaves into each side of the chicken and then wrapped two pieces of prosciutto around each breast to hold the sage into place. He dredged each piece in flour, dipped them into some beaten eggs and finally coated them with panko. He submerged each piece individually in vegetable oil and fried them until they were golden brown. He then placed them on a wire rack and seasoned them with kosher salt.

Meanwhile, he mixed the scallions, peas, mint, and lemon zest with extra virgin olive oil and he seasoned the salad with kosher salt. He arranged each chicken cutlet on a plate and topped them with the pea salad. He served it with some crusty bread and a Dornish red wine.

“Sandor, I swear I will never underestimate you again. This is divine.” Arya declared as she took another bite of the wonderful meal.

He frowned. “I wasn’t aware you had underestimated me in the first place.”

“I suppose I assumed you didn’t know how to cook. I’m sorry.”

“Well, this is my best dish.” He admitted.

“Do you cook for yourself at the Red Keep?”

“Most of the time. We used to have a communal kitchen at the security complex but that didn’t work out very well so now we each have a small kitchenette in our rooms.”

“You mean a communal kitchen like they have in a fire station where all the firefighters take turns making meals?”

“Yeah, but no one wanted to take turns. You can’t imagine what my co-workers eat. It’s mostly Spaghetti-O’s, microwave dinners and fast food.”

“Ugh. We have a cafeteria at Winterfell for all our employees.”

“I remember it. The food was excellent. Your family always did take good care of its employees. When we all went to Winterfell with Robert Baratheon we were jealous and not just because of the food.”

“Do you like working for the Baratheons?”

She could tell she hit a nerve. Sandor got very quiet. Arya reached out and put her hand over his. He looked up at her and sighed. 

After they cleaned up and loaded the dishwasher, Sandor sat on the sofa. Arya brought the bottle of wine and topped off their glasses. They each took a sip. Sandor placed his wineglass on the end table and turned to look at Arya. “Why don’t you tell me about yourself, Girl?”

Arya gave him a very small smile. “There’s really nothing to know. I love history, I love fencing and I believe in justice. I’m proud of my family’s heritage. I enjoy the ancient art of laying hands on someone to give them spiritual strength and to heal them both physically and emotionally.” She shrugged.

Sandor smiled wryly. “Is that it?” He teased. “I’m sorry but you seem rather boring.”

Arya picked up the throw pillow from the sofa and attempted to bash him over the head with it while she laughed. He deflected the blow with his forearm as he laughed with her. He took the pillow from her and then they smiled at each other rather foolishly. Sandor leaned forward and gave her a sweet kiss and then he put his arm around her and pulled her close to him. Arya liked being tucked under his arm. It made her feel safe and cared for. She had rarely felt secure since her father had been killed in a car accident and then her mother and oldest brother had died in a fire six years ago at a wedding.

“You said you studied abroad?” Sandor asked as he stroked her silky hair.

“Yes. I went to the University of Pentos in Essos.”

“Oh, I assumed you went to school in Braavos.”

Arya moved away from Sandor. “No, why would you think that?”

“Well, surely you must have spent some time there. You speak Braavosi and understand the customs so well.”

“No. I’ve never been there. I just studied it while I was at Pentos.”

Sandor watched her as she toyed with her wineglass.

“I mean, I did have some Braavosi friends there. I learned a lot from them.”

He didn’t like the way she wasn’t looking at him. He wasn’t sure she was being completely honest. “You told me the Unmasking is this Saturday. Would you like to go?”

She turned and smiled at him. “Sure. You’re into medieval history; I seem to recall you knew how to use a long sword while you were at Winterfell. I remember you sparred with my brothers. Do you fence too?”

“I do have a long sword but not a fencing sword. I have fenced before. You and the men at the Moon Pool were doing a different type of fighting that I’ve never seen before.”

“It’s called water dancing.”

“I’m no water dancer, Girl.” He didn’t want to upset her but he needed to have his say. “It made me uncomfortable that you were fighting without safety equipment.”

She looked at his concerned face. She didn’t think he was trying to insult her or tell her what to do so she snuggled back up to him. “Are you trying to tell me you wouldn’t find me attractive with an eye patch?”

He wrapped her up in his big arms. “It would be a shame if you were to deprive me of the pleasure of both your beautiful grey eyes.”

“Hmph.” She decided she had better watch out. He was much more of a charmer than she had initially realized. “What about you? You haven’t told me about yourself.”

“I like history, medieval weaponry, hiking, camping, and fishing. I like your healing hands and I like you.”

“Sandor?”

“Hmm?”

“I have a confession to make.” Her voice was muffled because her face was pressed against his chest.

He looked down at her. “Girl?”

“I cheated at the pool hall.”

“I knew it! You’re a pool shark!”

She leaned back and looked up at him. “No, Sandor. I cheated at the coin toss. I figured if I went first I’d have a much better chance at winning.”

“Oh.”

“Will you let me make it up to you?” She lowered her lashes.

Sandor felt a little shaky. “How do you propose to do that?”

Arya smiled back up at him. “How about I give you that nice full body massage that you were wanting earlier?”

Arya had him wait in the living room while she went into her bedroom to prepare for his massage. He couldn’t imagine what he’d done to deserve this. He wasn’t going to get ahead of himself and read anything more into the massage than what she intended. Although, the fact that she was asking him into her bedroom was very encouraging. He could always hope. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d wanted something so much.

Arya brought several towels into her bedroom and placed then over her bed to protect it from the massage oil and one of her soft blue massage blankets. She lit about a dozen candles and placed them around her room. She chose some soft, instrumental Dornish guitar music from her playlist on her iPad.

She looked at herself in her mirror. She wished she had something sexy to wear. Then she remembered her red satin kimono. She took off her shirt and her shorts and put it on over her black satin bra. She frowned at her appearance. She supposed his eyes were going to be closed most of the time anyway so the fact that she wasn’t all that pretty wouldn’t really matter. Well, apparently her eyes were beautiful, according to Sandor. Arya smiled to herself.

Arya went back into the living room and took Sandor’s hand and grinned. “Come along now, Sandor.” He let her lead him into the bedroom. He saw how she had made her bedroom so much more intimate than the spa. They were alone here. He had been so afraid that he was going to embarrass himself at the spa and that someone might hear him if he were to make a sound. He did feel some nervous anticipation but he wasn’t afraid to be here with her now.

“Here’s a blanket for you, Sandor. Go ahead and get undressed. I’ll be back in a few moments.”

Arya went back to the living room and gulped down the rest of her wine. She wasn’t really sure what was going to happen but she supposed she was about to find out. She went back to the bedroom and knocked gently on the door. “Are you ready, Sandor?”

“Yes, I’m ready, Girl.”

Arya adjusted the blue blanket and then rolled a small towel and placed it underneath his forehead so Sandor could keep his face down and breathe at the same time. She sat beside him on the bed and began to rub circles with her thumbs on the back of his neck. She used her thumbs and fingertips to gently massage his scalp and then she used her fingernails. She delicately massaged his ears between her thumbs and her forefingers and then made small, circular motions at his temples.

Her nails sent a shiver through his body and she had tickled his ears. Her fingers eased the tension from him. He had no idea that his head was so sensitive to being touched. Arya just knew what he needed without him even having to tell her.

Arya squeezed some oil into her hands and warmed it. She began with the light strokes of effleurage on the back of Sandor’s neck and across the tops of his shoulders and then his trapezius muscles. Eventually, she used deeper movements at first with her thumbs and then with her knuckles. She had told Shireen that Sandor looked like a Greek god. He truly was beautiful. She would completely understand if someone wanted to sculpt him in marble.

Sandor particularly liked it when she massaged his trapezius muscles. It seemed to be where he held the most tension. It was true that he spent a whole lot of time holding his emotions in. He was not what anyone would call an easygoing person. He’d always thought it best to keep his guard up. He didn’t like surprises because they were almost always bad. He wondered how she knew just how to soothe him.

Arya trailed her hands down his arm and moved around to the side of the bed and took his wrist into her hand. She swept along the back of his forearm, along the tricep and over the shoulder coming back on the opposite side. Then she gently kneaded his arm. She took hold of his hand and used her fingertips to make small circular motions on his palm. She held his wrist with one hand while she used her opposite hand to take hold of each of his fingers individually and slowly slide her thumb and her finger up and down the length of each of his fingers. She got onto the other side of the bed and did the same to his other arm and hand.

When she’d circled her thumb on his palm and stroked his fingers not only had it felt warm and embracing, it had felt strangely intimate. He thought about her fingers and wondered what it would be like to put them in his mouth and suck on them each individually.

When she was finished with his arm, she straddled his waist and leaned forward over his back and used both hands to smooth over his rippling muscles. She began at his waist and worked her way up and then back down over and over again.

His senses went into overload when she straddled him. He really wished she would get rid of the blanket that was covering him. He was sure the soft satin of her kimono rubbing against his ass would feel really good. Actually, he hoped she was naked under her kimono. That would probably feel even better, especially once he had turned over onto his back.

When she finished, she removed herself from his waist and moved near his feet. She wrapped both hands around his foot and used her thumbs to apply pressure to the bottom of his foot. She worked his arch but also paid special attention to his heel and the ball of his foot. She took hold of each of his toes individually and gave each one a gentle pull.

Arya held her breath as she moved the blanket back and exposed one of Sandor's legs. A champion racehorse could not have had better legs than Sandor Clegane. They were long, they were muscular and they made Arya’s mouth water. She unconsciously licked her lips. She added some more oil to her hands and gave his leg a couple of long, relaxing strokes from the calf to the upper thigh. She used the light pressure of the effleurage and then she kneaded his calf to work the calf muscle. She moved up to his thigh and kneaded it and then pressed the heel of her hand into his skin and then very slowly moved it up the thigh and suddenly her hand slipped up under the blanket and over his ass and then back down again. She repeated the movement several times. She felt Sandor jump beneath her hand each time she stroked his ass.

Sandor had his eyes closed but he was hype-aware of Arya’s touch. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep still. No one had ever touched him there before quite like that. It made him feel a little excited. It was almost as if he was an animal and she was petting his flanks and hindquarters.

When Arya was finished with his leg, she covered it again and then uncovered the other one and began on it. She was aware that Sandor’s breathing had increased. She was supposed to be relaxing him but she may have been accidentally invigorating him instead. She admired his leg so much she regretted when she had to cover it again once she was finished.

“Time to turn over.” She murmured as she got off the bed.

Sandor rolled over like the obedient dog he was. He would also sit up and beg at this point; all she had to do was ask he thought to himself.

Arya added a little more oil to her hands and straddled Sandor's waist again as she leaned over his him and massaged his shoulders and upper chest. You weren’t really supposed to touch your client’s nipples but Arya decided she didn’t care. He wasn’t her client anymore. He was just a big, gorgeous man with a wonderful, immense chest and pectorals to die for. She ran her fingers over his hard nipples and delighted in them. She let her palms slip over his abdominals like she was on an insane roller coaster. She did remember to pull back just in time before her hands slid on under the blanket all the way home.

Oh Gods! Why did she stop? No! No! He needed her to keep going. He needed it!

Arya was fully aware that Sandor was aroused. She could feel him underneath her. He seemed to be rather extra-large. She slipped off him and then uncovered his leg and stroked up from his calf to his upper thigh and Sandor grunted. She paused and then started back down. She started at his ankle again and stroked upwards over his inner thigh and then back down. She stoked upwards over his inner thigh again and Sandor growled deep in his throat. “What is it, Sandor?”

“Arya.” He was literally panting.

“Hmm?”

“I think we should stop.” He choked out.

“What? Why?” Her hands stilled.

“It’s too much. You’re too much. I’m afraid.”

“Oh, Sandor. What are you afraid of?” She stared at him with concern.

“I’m afraid I’m going to hurt you.”

She pulled away. “What do you mean?”

“You’re so young. You don’t need to get involved with someone like me.”

Arya was suddenly calm. She thought she understood what he was trying to say but she wanted to be sure. “What do you mean when you say someone like you?”

“Someone broken.” He whispered as he turned away from her. It hurt to tell her but she had a right to know.

“Oh, Sandor.” Arya crawled up the bed and laid down beside him threw her arms around him. “You’re not the only one.” She put her head on his chest and sighed.

Sandor turned toward her and put his arms around her. They held each other tightly.

After awhile, Arya propped herself up on her elbow and looked down into Sandor’s face. “I heard the story about your brother."

He nodded. “I'm not surprised. That's only a part of it, there's more.” He touched her cheek with the back of his hand. “I know about your parents and your brother. I'm sorry.”

“Thank you. But that’s not everything either.” Arya admitted. She smoothed her hand over his chest. “We can go slowly, Sandor.”

He raised himself up on his elbow too. “Alright.” He leaned forward to kiss her and then he couldn’t stop. They were both suddenly ravenous and hungrily tried to devour one another. He reached for her and pushed her down onto the bed as he got up onto his knees above her. He untied her kimono and she only had on a black bra underneath. He was right; she hadn’t been wearing any panties at the pool hall.

He lowered himself on top of her and ran his hand down her abdomen. He stopped as he felt something disturbing. He looked down. Arya’s skin was puckered and thick with scar tissue. “What’s this?”

She swallowed hard. “It’s nothing. I had my appendix removed.”

He looked into her face. She was one hell of a bold-faced liar. He decided it could wait until later. He had more pressing things to take care of right now. He kissed her and slid his fingers down between her legs and over her plush, sweet womanhood until he could dip his finger into her soaked and glorious sex. It uplifted him somehow to know that for all her teasing, she had surrendered herself to him. He played her body like the most beautiful and treasured instrument he’d ever held because it was.

Arya’s phone began to buzz but Arya never even heard it. Sandor chose to ignore it. He was too lost in the sounds Arya was making to care. Neither of them heard the key as it unlocked the front door. Neither of them heard the footsteps in the hallway. Both of them heard Sansa scream.


	8. Talking is Overrated

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is for the Lovely Flower.

Sandor and Arya both clutched each other in panic and turned to see Sansa’s horrified face. Arya screamed, “Get out!”

“Fuck!” Sandor shouted as he scrambled to get hold of the blue blanket. He whipped it over his and Arya’s nakedness as quickly as he could but by then Sansa had fled from the doorway and had disappeared. He glared angrily into Arya’s face. “So, I suppose it’s safe to assume you never had that talk with your sister about me.”

Arya’s skin was flushed bright red. They were both breathing hard. Arya put her hand up over her eyes but not before Sandor had seen they were filled with tears. He suddenly felt very badly for yelling at her. He found he couldn’t bear to see her upset. He leaned down and kissed her forehead tenderly. He nudged his face against hers and breathed in her scent. “It’s alright.” He put his hand on her shoulder and stroked her softly with his fingers. “She definitely knows about us now.” He chuckled.

Arya pushed at him. “This is not funny! Get off me you big . . . animal!”

“Animal! What kind of animal do you think I am?”

“A big dumb one!” She had an evil look in her eye. “You’re a donkey!”

Sandor started to laugh. “Did you just call me an ass?”

Arya started to laugh with him and then caressed his cheek. “You’re not really a donkey.” She relented.

“But I’m still an ass?” He joked with his eyebrows raised.

She ran her hands over his chest. “No, you’re not an ass. You _are_ furry enough to be a bear. Maybe you’re a big, cuddly teddy bear.”

“A teddy bear? That’s just great. Instead of being frightened of me, people will just want to come up for a hug instead.”

Arya threw her arms around him and squeezed. “Don’t you like hugs?”

He rolled over on his back with his arms wrapped around her. She found herself sprawled on top of him. He squeezed her against his chest. “I like getting hugs from you.” They kissed for a couple of minutes. “Arya?”

“Hmm?”

“I think I should go, now.”

“You don’t have to leave. Sansa will get over it. I live here too. I’m allowed to have friends over.”

“Is that what I am, your friend?” He meant it as a joke but it didn’t quite come out that way.

She couldn’t stand how he seemed so uncertain of her feelings for him. She kissed his perfect lips and then looked into his eyes. “Yes, you’re my friend but you’re so much more than that.”

“Mmm.” He was pleased. All this kissing and pleasing talk plus the feel of her naked body on his own was starting to get him hot and bothered all over again. He wasn’t about to do something about it with her sister in the house. ”We’re going to the festival in three days. Why don’t you let me plan something special for us once it’s over?”

She smiled eagerly. “Really, like what?”

He gently removed her from his chest and sat up. “I don’t know. I haven’t thought of it yet.” He stood up and found his boxers and slipped them on.

Arya was transfixed. She bet she could easily bounce a quarter off his firm ass without any problem at all. That’s what she would really like. She wanted to have Sandor buck naked and all to herself. She wanted to see all of him. She’d really only caught a glimpse of a particular area of interest earlier that she really, really wanted to see again.

He interrupted her lascivious thoughts. “Any suggestions for something special you might enjoy?”

Arya drifted off into fantasyland. A big smile spread over her face. She decided she might enjoy doing just about anything naked with him. Naked dancing, naked wrestling, naked showering . . .

“Arya?”

“Hmm?”

“I’m not expecting you to do anything you’re uncomfortable with. We can just enjoy each other’s company and talk if that’s what is bothering you.” He finished dressing and was tying his sneakers. “I mean, it probably would be best to take things slowly. I promise I won’t lose control of myself again.” He sat down beside her on the bed. “Do you forgive me?”

Several thoughts ran through her head. Seven Hells! Talk? Who wants to talk? Talking is overrated! Everyone knows action is much better than talking! She sighed. “Yeah, sure, I forgive you.”

He looked at her very seriously. “I do think you and I have some stuff we need to talk about. Don’t you?”

Sandor was no fool. She didn’t think he missed very much.

“I thought you said your sister was not coming back home until tomorrow afternoon.”

Arya got out of bed and tied her kimono around her waist. “She wasn’t supposed to.”

Sandor was having a hard time keeping his eyes to himself. He thought about how much he wanted her. He was suddenly worried Sansa might succeed in bringing her to her senses. “She’s going to try to talk you out of seeing me. She’d going to tell you I’m too old for you, among other things.”

Arya watched him as he looked away and pretended he wasn’t upset. “Sandor, she’s not going to talk me out of anything. If you knew me better, you’d realize just how stubborn I can be. How old are you, anyway?”

He took a deep breath. “I’m thirty-four.”

“That’s not so bad. When’s your birthday?”

“April 24. When’s yours?”

“April 15. I’m twenty.”

Sandor looked heavenward for strength. “Fuck me.” He said more to himself than to her.

Arya smirked to herself. Oh, that was her intention, alright. She reached down and picked up her phone. There was a missed call and then a text from the concierge. _Ms. Arya, I’m sure you’ll be happy to know that your sister has arrived home early and is on her way up right this minute. Harwin_

Arya laughed out loud and showed the text to Sandor. He was glad to know not everyone was against them.

. . . . .

Sandor gave Arya a soft kiss as they stood beside the front door. When he looked up, Sansa was watching them from the hallway. Her arms were folded across her chest and she did not look happy. “Goodnight, Arya. I’ll call you tomorrow.” He nodded towards Sansa to let Arya know she was there. Then he left.

Arya turned around and Sansa flew at her. “You idiot!” She hissed. “Just what did you think you were doing?”

“Well, Sansa, I really don’t think it’s necessary for me to explain it to you. I think you saw what was happening just fine.”

“Oh my Gods, you bet I did! I need to wash my eyes out with soap after what I saw. It was horrible! I can’t believe I caught you in flagrante delicto!”

“What in the Seven Hells does that mean?”

“Quit swearing. It’s unladylike. Basically, it’s Latin for being caught red-handed in the commission of a crime but its most commonly used to describe being caught in the act of sexual misconduct.”

“Sexual misconduct? We didn’t do anything wrong! We’re two consenting adults. Besides, where did you ever come up with some Latin phrase?”

“I learned it in my pre-law classes. It's frequently used to describe when someone catches their spouse in bed with someone else and it’s used against them in the divorce.”

“Oh. Well, there’s no need to worry. Neither Sandor or I are married so we’re fine, thank you very much.”

“Arya surely you must understand this . . . _relationship_ is entirely inappropriate.”

“Says who?”

“First of all, he’s _way_ too old for you. Second, he’s not a very nice man. Third, he’s employed by the Baratheons.”

Arya squared her shoulders and got an incredibly obstinate look on her face. “I don’t know why I’m going to bother trying to explain it to you but here goes. He’s not all that old. He’s only 34. People in security have to be intimidating because it’s part of their job. No one is going to be afraid of a . . . a teddy bear. Lastly, what difference does it make that he works for the Baratheons? He has to work somewhere.”

Sansa was flustered. She should have known Arya wouldn’t listen to her. “I hate to be the one to tell you this but he's practically a manual laborer. He’s not like us. It’s embarrassing! What will people say?"

“What do you mean, he’s not like us? I wasn’t aware that we're more special than anyone else.” She huffed. “What you really mean is what will your _friends_ say? I could care less about your stuck-up friends. You know most of them aren’t really your true friends anyway. I bet more than three fourths of them would abandon you in a heartbeat if you ever had a real problem and needed their help.” Maybe she shouldn’t have been so harsh. Sansa appeared stricken.

Sansa made one last attempt to make Arya understand. “I’m afraid he’s going to hurt you, Arya. It would be so easy to take advantage of someone like you.”

Arya’s chin came up. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Sansa lowered her voice. “Don’t take this the wrong way but I don’t think you’ve ever really been popular with the men.”

“What are you talking about? I’ve had lots of male friends.”

“That’s because they think of you as another man. Just how many of them have thought of you as a woman?”

Arya frowned. It was true. She didn’t have a whole lot of experience being treated as a woman. It wasn’t her fault she didn’t know how to be silly or flatter a man. She hated women who simpered and stroked a man’s ego. She would much rather fight a man like Joffrey than fawn over him. She didn’t know how Sansa could have done it without throwing up. “I understand what you’re saying, Sansa but I really don’t think Sandor wants to take advantage of me or hurt me. Maybe if you got to know him and gave him a chance you would see that.”

Sansa flopped down on the sofa. “Oh, Arya. I hope you’re right.”

“Why did you come home so early, anyway?”

“Joff showed up at High Garden. Margaery didn’t even know he was coming. Her grandmother invited him. He was so nasty I just couldn’t take it anymore so I took an earlier flight home.”

Arya sensed Sansa’s pain. “Do you want me to have Sandor flatten him?”

Sansa giggled and then smiled. “No, I met someone new. He has already expressed an interest in flattening Joff for me. His name is Ramsay.”

. . . . .

The next evening, Arya was at the gym kickboxing with Gendry. He seemed to be in a very bad mood. He would hardly talk to her. He swept her legs out from under her and seemed particularly pleased when she hit the ground hard.

She quickly got to her feet. “I don’t know what your problem is but if you want to play rough, I’ll play rough with you.” Arya began to aggressively attack Gendry. He started to back up more and more until she had him against the ropes. She gave him a good left uppercut and he fell to his knees, momentarily stunned.

Arya danced backwards. “Have you had enough yet?”

“I give up. Have you been holding out on me all this time or have you been training behind my back?” He asked her with genuine surprise in his voice.

She grinned. “That’s for me to know and you to find out.”

Someone helped Gendry out of his boxing gloves and then he helped Arya. They toweled off and Gendry supplied them both with some water. They went outside to sit down and cool off. There was a nice breeze for a change.

Gendry was frowning at her.

“What?” She was losing her patience.

“I’m sorry, Arya. That was uncalled for. I’m ashamed of myself.”

“What’s wrong?” She held her shirt away from her body because it was sticky with sweat. “Are you mad at me?”

He didn’t answer right away. “Not really. I just don’t understand what you see in that guy.”

“He’s not so bad, Gendry. He just has a hard time expressing himself.”

Gendry glanced at her and then looked away. “Are you sure he’s not just a big, mean jerk?”

“How can you say that? You only met him twice.”

Gendry scowled. “The first time doesn’t count. You were too busy sucking his face for me to meet him properly.”

Arya laughed but then checked herself. This wasn’t funny to Gendry. “Gendry, we broke up a long time ago. You did realize I was going to meet someone sooner or later, didn’t you?”

“Yeah, but I thought he would be a regular guy like me. I didn’t think he was going to be big, mean bruiser with an incredibly ugly face and old enough to be your dad.”

“He’s not old enough to be my dad. He’s not even in his mid-thirties. Why do you keep saying he’s mean?”

“I never met him before but I have heard of him. He has a bad reputation. They say he hurts people when the Baratheons or the Lannisters ask him to.”

“Who said that?” Arya was upset now. She did vaguely recall when she was younger that she’d heard rumors that he’d done questionable things but she hadn’t really paid that much attention.

Gendry stared at her with a pitying look on his face. “Everyone says it. Ask around, you’ll see.”

Arya jumped up. “I have to go now, Gendry. I have some errands to take care of.”

. . . . .

Shireen invited Arya over for dinner on Friday night. Of course, she knew who Stannis Baratheon was but she had never met him before. He seemed really busy. He kept taking phone calls during dinner. Arya’s dad would never have approved of that. As a matter of fact, he wouldn’t even let anyone bring a phone to the table during dinnertime. She liked his friend, Mr. Seaworth, much better. He had a grey beard and sparkling eyes. He enjoyed teasing Shireen and Arya and asked them about themselves and seemed genuinely interested in what they had to say.

After dinner, they went downstairs to the media room to watch a movie. Shireen wanted to watch some romantic fluff and Arya suggested they watch John Wick. When Shireen objected, Arya generously offered to let her choose between John Wick Chapter 1, Chapter 2, or Chapter 3. She couldn’t understand why Shireen kept laughing at her. Finally, Arya relented. She decided she would force Shireen to watch John Wick when Shireen visited her.

“Seriously, you’ve never even heard of John Wick?” Arya enquired with disbelief.

“Well, you claim you’ve never heard of Mr. Darcy. I find that hard to believe.”

They watched the first part of the film and decided to watch another part the next time. Shireen turned to Arya. “How was it? Was it as horrible as you thought it would be?”

“OK Shireen, I’m going to admit I liked it but if you ever tell anyone I will have to get even.”

“Are you going to beat me up? Gendry says you are a pretty good kickboxer.”

“No, I’m going to find someone like the odious Mr. Collins and tell him that you are a single woman in possession of a good fortune and you are in want of a husband.”

Shireen clutched her stomach because she was laughing so hard. “No! You wouldn’t really be that cruel, would you?”

Arya’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t test me, Shireen.” Then she burst out laughing too.

Shireen asked Arya about her plans for the weekend.

“Sandor is taking me out. He says he’s going to do something special, whatever that means.”

“Ooh, is Sandor a romantic?” Shireen asked breathlessly.

Arya thought about it for a second. “I don’t know. I guess I’ll find out.” Arya frowned. “Gendry doesn’t like Sandor.” She admitted.

“I wouldn’t worry about it. I understand you two dated before. He’s probably just jealous.”

“He said Sandor is a bad person.” Arya bit her lip. “Have you heard anything like that?”

Shireen shook her head. “No. He certainly looks scary, though.”

“He can’t help how he looks, Shireen.”

Shireen put her hand up to her face and touched her psoriasis. “No, he can’t. Has he ever done anything to hurt you?”

“No, but Sansa says I’m inexperienced and don’t know what I’m doing.”

“Yeah, but she dated Joff, so what does she know?” Shireen looked thoughtful. “You do realize that once people find out you’re dating Sandor they won’t be very nice about it; especially to Sandor.”

Arya was puzzled. “Why’s that?”

“They won’t like it that’s he’s dating someone above his station. That’s much more socially unacceptable to most people than a rich girl dating beneath her.”

Arya stared at Shireen in shock. “Who are these people you keep talking about? Do you feel that way, Shireen?”

“Of course not but a lot of people might feel that way. I don’t think I would be a good friend if I didn’t warn you.”

“Is this a southern thing? It’s not like that in the north where I’m from.”

Shireen gazed at her friend speculatively. “Are you sure about that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sure all of you know Emilie_L_C She writes some really good Arya and Sandor stories in her collection called For The Night Is Dark And Full Of Terrors. 
> 
> She's really not feeling well right now. Please head on over and show her some love and support! She is the sweetest, kindest most lovely flower in the whole world!!!


	9. Extra Careful

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For the Lovely Flower

The closer it got to Saturday, the more Sandor was bursting with excitement. He was trying to hold it in but it must have showed. Even Cersei noticed. “What’s happened, Clegane? Did a rich uncle die and leave you his cellar full of Dornish red?”

Sandor smiled. “Something like that.”

She’d known Clegane a good, long time. She’d hardly ever seen him when he wasn’t scowling. She realized for the first time if it wasn’t for his burns, he would have been quite a handsome man.

. . . . .

Sandor had made a reservation at the Blackwater Bay Hotel for Saturday night. They didn’t want to give him one on such short notice so he had to resort to using his employer’s name to get what he wanted. He knew damn well they’d make room for an associate of the Baratheons. He figured they owed him for all the stuff they’d put him through. He’d even stopped in the Crossroads Bakery to see Arya’s friend. He wanted to ask him if he knew Arya’s favorite dessert. He thought it might be awkward but it had been easy. The kid really liked to talk about food. Hot Pie was eager to help so Sandor arranged for him to bake two individual sized chocolate truffle cakes with some white chocolate-covered strawberries on the side.

Sandor hoped Arya would be pleased. He’d never done anything even remotely like this before and he didn’t want her to laugh at him. He went out and bought a new black dress shirt and black trousers. She had told him black was his color and he wanted to look good. He got a haircut and trimmed his beard so he wouldn’t look like a wild man. He’d gone online and made the reservation at a restaurant this time too. He studied the festival’s webpage and found a map so he would know where he was and chose a play that he hoped Arya might be interested in. He even made sure the production didn’t have anything to do with insulting her family.

. . . . .

Sansa and Arya had little in common but Arya wanted to buy a new dress and Sansa was the only person she trusted to help her get it right. Sansa was excited until she realized that the dress meant that Arya was going on a date with Sandor Clegane.

Arya had to explain that he was taking her to the Unmasking on the final night of the festival.

“Really, Arya? Why don’t you just wear your outlandish pirate costume again? How are you going to fight in a dress, anyway?”

“I’m not going to fight this time.”

Sansa did a double-take. “That doesn’t sound like you at all. I’m really surprised.” Sansa frowned.

“I thought you didn’t like me to fight all the time. You used to tell me it was embarrassing.” Arya pointed out.

“Well, that’s different. I bet this is Clegane's doing. I don’t know if I like him telling you what you can and can’t do.”

“Is that because that honor is reserved for my family?” Arya laughed.

Sansa smiled back at her. “Yes, it's my job to boss you around and I take my job very seriously."

Arya made a face. "Gee, thanks."

. . . . .

When Sandor arrived at the condo Sansa let him in. “Arya will be ready in a minute. Won’t you have a seat?” They sat across from each other and stared at each other awkwardly. “How did you happen to meet my sister, Mr. Clegane?”

Sandor didn’t want to admit that he and Arya had started off playing games while he was at work. “I met her when I went in for a massage after I injured my shoulder.” He figured that sounded much better.

“You didn’t remember her from when she was a girl?”

He wasn’t about to lie about that. “Of course I remembered her. Who wouldn’t?”

Sansa thought about Arya for a minute and then she smiled. Her smile then faded a little. “You were always pretty good to me when Joff wasn’t.”

Sandor didn’t know how to respond to that. He didn’t want to tell her what he really thought. He didn’t want to say that she could have saved herself a lot of grief if she would have left Joff much sooner. So he just nodded uncomfortably.

“I want you to be extra-careful with my sister. I don’t think it’s too much for me to ask.”

He nodded and then he found his voice. “I will.”

She nodded in return and then Arya walked into the living room. He’d thought she looked hot before when she was dancing with her friends but now she was truly stunning. He stood up quickly but he was almost afraid to go to near her. She was wearing a gorgeous, sophisticated, dark red dress. It was short and showed off her toned and sexy legs. It was made from the sheerest fabric that seemed to swirl around her when she moved. She was wearing some strappy black heels and her eyes were lined with a smoky dark kohl. What pleased him the most was that she'd dressed this way for her date with _him_.

“Well, how do I look?” She gave him a throaty laugh. He continued to stare at her. “Sandor?”

Sansa almost laughed when she saw how flustered he was. “Take my word for it, he likes it. Isn’t that right, Mr. Clegane?”

Sandor just nodded because he was too choked up to speak.

Arya reached out and took his hand. “Come along, Sandor. We don’t want to be late.”

Arya had a different mask than she’d had before. It matched her dress and was covered with sequins and seed pearls. Arya had returned the same black mask that was embroidered with silver thread for him to wear. While they were dining al fresco, Sandor was fully aware of the looks Arya was receiving and the envious looks he was getting as well. He knew it was his own fault. He’d mentioned that her fighting made him nervous, so she had turned the tables on him and decided to leave her sword behind and become something even more dangerous.

Arya and Sandor enjoyed the crispy fried calamari garnished with lemons and parsley as an appetizer with a delicious spicy marinara dipping sauce. For their entrée they had grilled mahi mahi with lemon caper sauce, saffron rice pilaf and a tabbouleh salad. They chose a fine Arbor Gold wine to compliment the meal. Sandor hadn’t been a big fan of seafood until he met Arya. Now that he knew what he was missing, he wanted to dine on it every day with her.

After dinner, they walked around taking in the sights, the sounds and the lovely spicy smells of the festival. They stopped and tried on some outlandish hats and Arya bought a tiny bottle of exotic bath oil. She eyed some finely made daggers and Sandor had to admit the craftsmanship was outstanding. He couldn't resist buying one of the daggers for Arya and was repaid for his generosity with an enthusiastic kiss. Sandor would never have imagined he would be enjoying himself at a Braavosi festival and even more surprising than that was that he was fortunate enough to enjoy it with someone as special as Arya. 

Arya and Sandor enjoyed the play that he had chosen. It was about the founding of Braavos and all the hardships the former slaves had to endure but how good had triumphed over evil in the end. As soon as it was over, Arya grasped Sandor's hand and hurried him along because she wanted to be at the seafront for the Unmasking at midnight. The moonlit bay was enchanting. Their were dozens of traditional Braavosi trading vessels with purple sails at anchor. Arya explained how Braavos was actually a lagoon filled with hundred of tiny islands connected with stone bridges and a vast network of canals.

Sandor realized a man was trying to get his attention. It was the weapons dealer. He motioned to a set of wide steps that led to the square up above where he was standing with his display case open. Sandor told Arya he'd be right back. He jogged up the steps quickly. He wasn't disappointed once he realized the man was trying to sell the last of his wares at a discount.

The man held up what Sandor could have sworn was a Valyrian steel dagger. “I still have some daggers left. When I saw you, I remembered how much your lady was intrigued by these works of art. Since it’s the last night of the festival and the hour is late, I would prefer to sell the last of my items if I can. I am prepared to let you have your choice at a bargain price."

Sandor knew how much Arya loved those daggers but a Valyrian steel dagger was almost to good to be true. Sandor wondered if it was just a really good forgery. “How much?”

The dealer began the long, drawn out process of touting up the dagger and then haggling over the price. Sandor wasn’t that far from Arya but he didn’t like leaving her alone. The man then pulled out some finely crafted gold jewelry. There was a breathtaking gold choker with a wolfshead clasp that he knew would be perfect for Arya. Suddenly, a deafening blast from a horn could be heard blaring over the bay.

Sandor realized it was time for the Unmasking. He hastily excused himself and hurried toward the stairs. A pregnant woman and her male companion were halfway up when she slipped and fell right in front of Sandor. She hit the steps hard and landed on her knees. Sandor and her partner both reached out to help her get back up onto her feet. The horn was still blaring so he still had enough time to make it to Arya for the Unmasking and the lover's kiss. The woman’s companion was speaking very quickly in Braavosi. Sandor assumed he was trying to thank him but he really didn’t have the time.

Suddenly, a man appeared from out of nowhere very near to where Arya was standing at the railing overlooking the bay. The man was fairly tall and he was dressed exceedingly well. Arya glanced over at the man and Sandor could see her body stiffen. He realized something was wrong. He tried to move past the couple but they both grabbed onto him at the same time and wouldn't let him go. The injured woman began to cry and wail.

Sandor couldn’t very well push a pregnant woman out of his way on a staircase. He continued to politely and then not so politely try to disentangle himself from the couple and as he watched, the tall man closed in on Arya. He slowly reached up and pulled off his mask and shook out his mane of shoulder-length, red hair. His hair wasn't completely red; a distinctive white steak shone brightly in the moonlight. It was if the whole thing played out in slow motion and Sandor was powerless to do anything to stop it. The man reached out his hands and removed Arya’s mask. Sandor could see he was smiling as he took her into his arms and kissed her. The worst part of all was that she kissed him back.


	10. I Can't Imagine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the Lovely Flower

Arya had made a terrible mistake. She’d let the moment and the moonlight cloud her judgment for just long enough for her to let down her defenses. She’d recognized him immediately; no mask could disguise his lithe elegance. No mask could conceal the way he held himself. He always stood proudly with his shoulders thrown back and his head held high. He had always been supremely confident of himself and his abilities. She had been impressed with his confidence at one time. After all, he was more than capable of accomplishing precisely what he said he could do. Arya had always foolishly admired dangerous men. She could not deny that she had craved excitement. But at the same time she was her father’s daughter and she admired honor. This particular man had none.

She turned her lips from his and tried to shove him away but of course he was already one step ahead of her and had anticipated her reaction. His hands had snaked down her arms and held her wrists in his iron grip. She was unable to get her hands free so her next move was to stomp on his instep but he was prepared for that as well.

“Ah, lovely girl, why must you always be so predictable? Have you learned nothing from our time together?”

Sandor watched as Arya tried to break free from the man she had been so willingly kissing just a moment before. Sandor had seen enough. A guttural growl came up from his chest. The pregnant woman and her companion took notice and hastily tried to scramble out of his way. He shoved the woman into her man’s arms and flew down the steps as if he were the Stranger and the wrath of the Seven Hells was following not far behind.

The red-haired man turned to look as Sandor charged toward him. “Your dog has finally seen fit to protect his master. He comes now to tear a man to shreds. If you care for his safety, I suggest you stop him from following me.” He released her and stepped back while never taking his eyes off her face until she had no doubt he meant what he said. Arya gave a curt nod and then the man turned and walked a short distance before putting his hands on the railing and swinging his body over the other side.

Just then Sandor stormed past her and made his way to where the man had disappeared. Arya quickly joined him and they both looked down and watched the man as he descended an old iron ladder imbedded into the seawall that led down to the beach below. Sandor gripped the railing and began to throw his leg over to pursue him when Arya grasped his arm. “No. Let him go.”

Sandor rounded on her with his nostrils flared and his hands clenched into fists. “What the fuck is going on?” He barked as he ripped off his mask.

Arya did not like his tone of voice. She turned and began to walk away. Sandor had no choice but to follow after her. He grabbed hold of her arm. “I want an explanation.”

Arya’s eyes raked over him in anger. “I want a lot of things too. You need to understand, you can’t always get what you want.”

Sandor was taken aback. He had never heard her speak so coldly before. It made him wonder if he really knew her at all. He stared at her as he tried to catch his breath.

Arya relented a little. “Please, Sandor. I don’t feel safe here. I want to leave.”

She knew immediately that she’s said the wrong thing. He looked as insulted as if she’d slapped him. He puffed out his chest. “Do you think I can’t protect you?”

“Really? Where were you then?”

Sandor pointed up to the square above. “You know where I was.” He knew he shouldn’t have left her alone but he had wanted to please her with another purchase. “I wanted to get you something.”

“You took your own sweet time. Why was that?”

“The dealer had a Valyrian steel dagger.”

“That’s funny. He didn’t have it before when we visited his booth. Don’t you find it a tad bit incredible that he would have an extremely rare and nearly priceless weapon for sale specifically to you?”

Sandor frowned. It was odd. It was more that odd. “He also had a gold choker with a wolfshead clasp that he had not had before either.”

Arya smiled grimly. “I’m not surprised. Did you consider how fortunate it was that he just happened to have two things that would completely hold your interest?”

Sandor glanced up to where the weapon dealer had been. He was gone. Sandor went over the events of the last few minutes in his mind. “What about the pregnant woman who fell on the steps?”

“They were mummers, Sandor. It was all a farce. They were a couple of actors paid to distract you.”

Sandor glanced around the area nervously. “It was the red-haired man, wasn’t it? It was all his doing. But why? Was he attempting to abduct you?”

Arya shook her head. “No, if he had wanted to take me, that’s what he would have done. It was all a nasty little show put on to . . . never mind. Let’s go.” Arya started to walk away again.

Sandor caught up to her and walked with her while he thought about the meaning of the farce he had unwittingly played a part in. They found their way back to a more crowded area and then followed the throngs of people departing the festival. Sandor turned to examine Arya closely once they were seated in his vehicle. “Was the nasty little show designed to make you feel his power?”

Arya frowned angrily and looked away without answering.

He continued, “It was also designed for you to lose confidence in me. It was to humiliate me in your eyes, wasn’t it?”

Arya turned to scrutinize Sandor. She was ashamed of just how much she had underestimated his intelligence. “To be fair, you had no way of knowing anything about any of this. I am completely to blame for keeping you in the dark. It’s just that I never thought I would see him again.”

Sandor regarded the young woman beside him. He had suggested they needed to have a talk but just how much did he really want to know? He knew in his heart that she was worth it, whatever came to pass; she was worth it to him. “Arya, who was that man?”

Arya looked away. “He was my mentor for many years. He taught me swordsmanship and martial arts. He calls himself Jaqen H’ghar but that’s not really his name. Jaqen H’ghar doesn’t exist.”

Sandor became more and more upset. “Then who is he?”

Arya glanced back at him and shook her head. “He’s no one.”

. . . . .

Sandor drove to the Blackwater Bay Hotel. Arya sat silently beside him, lost in thought. It wasn’t until he was entering the parking garage that Arya realized he wasn’t taking her home. “Why are we here?”

Sandor’s jaw was set. It’s time for our talk, Girl.”

Arya stood on the balcony overlooking Blackwater Bay once again. It was a warm summer night but she shivered just the same. Sandor joined her. He looked over the bay and thought of his disappointment at not participating in the Unmasking with Arya. He was angry he’d let another man steal his place.

Sandor jealously remembered how Arya had not resisted her former _mentor_ , at least not at first. He blurted out what he had been thinking. “If he was your teacher, why were you kissing him?”

She didn’t like that he was shaming her. “Obviously, some lines got crossed along the way.” She turned to take in Sandor’s tense stance. She really didn’t want to talk right now.

“He seems like a delightful person.” Sandor said sarcastically. “Whatever did you see in him?”

“If you must know, I was enamored by his expertise. I wanted to be as good as him. I wanted to be strong, capable and invincible.”

Sandor thought about how Arya had lost her parents and her oldest brother. She must have at the very least lost her stability and her sense of safety. She had already admitted she was damaged. He knew from his own experiences what it was like to be terribly wounded. He had turned angry and bitter and had participated in his fair share of violence. He’d fought to find his way. He had no business making judgments about her. The truth was he still hadn’t found his way and he was a lot older than she was. He reached out and put his hand over hers.

Arya swallowed hard. Gendry said Sandor was a bad man. She couldn’t afford to get involved with another bad man. Her involvement with Jaqen had almost killed her. She wasn’t sure if she could trust Sandor or not but she wanted him more than anything. She turned and took his hand and led him back inside the hotel room.

The room was fairly dark except for some ambient light coming from the bathroom. She let go of his hand and stood before him and looked up at the big, imposing man. “I want to make one thing clear. Jaqen tried to control me. I will not be controlled.”

Sandor scoffed. “I can’t imagine anyone less likely to be controlled than you.”

“That’s most likely why he chose me. He craves a challenge.”

Sandor leaned forward. “That’s the most disgusting thing I’ve ever heard of. Your spirit is the best thing about you.”

Arya’s heart jumped into her throat. “Take your clothes off now and get onto the bed, Sandor Clegane.”

He stumbled over his words. “Arya, we don’t have to . . . I’m not expecting you to . . .”

“Relax. We’re not having sex. I’m just going to touch you a little and make you feel good.”

“Oh.”

Sandor stood there hesitantly so Arya reached up and untucked his dress shirt from his slacks. She started at the bottom and unbuttoned his shirt slowly and methodically. She slipped it down off his shoulders and she circled around behind him and helped remove it from his arms. He had on a white cotton undershirt and Arya put her arms around his waist and reached her hands slowly up his abdomen until her hands came to rest on his rock solid chest and she lightly stroked and then rubbed his nipples.

She could feel his breath quicken as he arched back towards her in obvious pleasure. She buried her face in the center of his back and smoothed one cheek and then the other against the soft fabric. Her hands slipped downward and she grasped the bottom of his undershirt and carefully pulled it upwards. She wasn’t tall enough to pull it over his head so he willingly assisted her.

Once his chest was bared, Arya delighted in reaching around him again and teased her hands through his soft chest hair and then gently alternated between caressing him very lightly with her fingertips and softly using her nails to tickle his warm flesh. She could feel him shudder from the sensation.

Arya continued to nudge Sandor with her face as she occasionally couldn’t resist tasting him with her tongue. Her hands slid down over his firm abdomen and then her fingers managed to undo his belt. Instead of going further, she reached back up to fondle his chest again.

Oh, how he wanted her to continue to undress him. He couldn’t imagine anything he’d like more than to feel the pressure of her nimble fingers working down his zipper. Maybe she’d even reach through the opening and feel what she was doing to him.

When Sandor’s lips weren’t opening to take a breath and lick his lips, he was humming in the most tantalizing way. She loved the way he was responding. The first time she’d laid her hands on him at the spa, she’d suspected he might open up to her this way if she kept on petting him long enough and that he got to know her well enough to let down his guard.

“Here, turn around and sit down on the bed.” Arya directed confidently. Sandor obeyed and Arya bent down onto her knees before him and removed his shoes and then his socks. She peeked up at him from under her eyelashes as she swept her hands up both his legs. She stood and gave his chest a gentle push. “Lay back, now.”

Sandor complied and rested back onto his elbows where he watched as Arya sat down in the chair and took off her heels and then she stood and pulled her dress over her head. Sandor couldn’t get over how incredible she looked in her sheer red bra and matching thong. He could see her dark nipples and he wanted nothing more than for her to climb on top of him and have her way with him.

She knelt down again and popped his button and pulled down his zipper while applying a little extra pressure with her fingers just like he wanted. She then grasped the waistband of his trousers and pulled them down and off his legs. She put her hands on the tops of his feet and leaned forward over him and nodded toward his overly-large erection tenting against his boxers. “What’s this then?” She smirked. “Whatever is hidden under there is monstrously big and seems like it wants very much to come out and play. Is that what it wants, Sandor?.”

Oh Gods! She was going to be the death of him! He was going to be found dead with a ridiculous smile on his face and it was going to be completely obvious to everyone what had happened. He hoped it was too dark for her to see how she was making him blush. She was still looking at him expectantly.

“You already know what it wants, Girl.” He growled.

Arya slid her fingertips all the way up from his ankles over his calves until they rested on his upper thighs. “Do you know you’ve the most wonderful legs, Sandor. I can’t get enough of them.” She looked down at his thighs and before he knew it her mouth was trailing sweet kisses on both his thighs as she used her tongue as well as her hands to caress him.

Arya could feel Sandor shiver beneath her as he groaned. She glanced up at him and his head was thrown back and his hands were clenched as he gripped the bedspread beneath him. She slowed her ministrations and pulled back a little. “Oh, I think I forgot about our rather large friend. Let’s let him out now, shall we?”

Sandor nodded and Arya carefully removed his boxers. She stood up and looked down at him and was awed by his utter magnificence. He was so much more than she ever could have imagined. After a minute Sandor opened one eye and squinted up at her. “Arya?”

He broke the spell and she suddenly remembered that she had been in the middle of something. She turned and went over to her handbag on top of the dresser. She came back a moment later with a small travel-size bottle of coconut oil. She hopped up on the bed and straddled his thighs. She warmed the oil in her hands and leaned forward over him and massaged it into his chest and then she rubbed it onto his belly. Her hands slid lower and lower.

Sandor groaned deeply as Arya’s fingertips trailed lightly up and down his engorged shaft. She touched a fingertip over the sensitive head of his cock. Around and around she went. The oil made her hands slippery and the teasing slide was sending Sandor over the edge. She could sense he was getting close so she eased off and rubbed down over his thighs instead.

Just as Sandor’s breathing slowed and he was able to regain control of himself, Arya’s hands slid upwards once again. She put one hand on the lower half of his throbbing manhood and the other hand on the top half and began to twist each hand in the opposite direction. The more Sandor moaned and the more his head thrashed from side to side the faster it made her go.

“Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes! Yes!” Sandor shouted as he nearly levitated off the bed. A moment later he came spectacularly for her.

Arya had never seen anything so glorious.


	11. A Fairly Nice Time was Had by All

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the Lovely Flower

Sandor’s body was on the bed but his head was floating somewhere up in the clouds. Arya had left for the bathroom after their amazing little tete-a-tete. He wasn’t really sure what he did or said to inspire Arya to take charge. The last thing he remembered was arguing with her. If this was how she fought, he would be completely satisfied to let her win every single fight they ever had.

After Arya exited the bathroom, Sandor found his boxers and went in to make himself presentable in case she felt like having any further disagreements that might end very agreeably. When he returned he found Arya was folded up in the chair beside the bed with her arms clasped around her knees. She wasn’t looking at him and he felt a little unsure of himself. He pulled the covers back and got into the bed. He looked at her in the dim light. “Arya, is everything alright?” When he saw he had her attention, he moved over and flipped the sheet back and patted the mattress as an invitation for her to lie beside him in the empty space he’d just vacated.

“Sandor, I don’t think . . .”

He turned away from her quickly. The thought finally occurred to him that perhaps she hadn’t satisfied him from her own desire but to keep him from asking her any more questions. She certainly didn’t seem like she wanted to be anywhere near him now. “It’s alright. I’ll take you home.”

Arya stared at him. Had he been trying to ask her for something but she hadn’t understood? Was it possible that it was important to him that she lay down beside him? Did he need reassurance? No one had ever needed her before. Maybe he just wanted to be held. She quickly got up and slid into bed beside Sandor and put her arms around his back. “Everything’s fine. I just didn’t know if you wanted me to . . ."

Sandor rolled back over and put his big arms around her and held her very tightly. Arya stroked his hair and kissed his forehead. “Sandor, do you have any idea how special you are?” She murmured.

His eyes were closed but she could feel him shake his head. “Well, you are. No one’s ever made me feel like you do.” She moved his hand and placed it over her heart. “You make me feel good right here.”

Sandor opened his eyes and searched her face and then he smiled. “I make you feel good on your left tit?”

“Sandor!” Arya started to laugh. “That’s not what I meant!”

He tried to keep a straight face. “So you’re saying I don’t make you feel good on your left tit?”

Arya clasped his head between her hands. He was surprised when she put her hand right on his burns and it didn’t seem to bother her at all. “Sandor, you make me feel wonderful from the top of my head to the bottom of my feet and every single conceivable place in between.” She smiled as she kissed him.

“Mmm, I’m glad to hear it. You . . .” He faltered. “You . . .” He couldn’t finish and he pulled her closer and hid his face against her neck.

Arya felt shaky. Her heart felt funny. She smoothed her hands over Sandor and soothed him. She whispered, “I care about you too.”

After awhile, she heard him sigh as he relaxed against her. Arya closed her eyes and thought about how good it was to be needed by someone. Sandor actually wanted affection from her, Jaqen never had. He had only wanted obedience. Jaqen was too controlled to ever need anything from anybody.

Sandor’s thumb began to slowly rub alongside her neck. It was a slow, repetitive movement. There was nothing overtly sexual about it. It wasn’t in a particularly sensitive area or anything but after several minutes she realized it was making her feel rather warm and breathless. The sensation was so good she found that she’d moved her head to give him more access. She wanted more of how his gentle touch made her feel.

Sandor detected Arya’s racing pulse. He lifted himself up and put his weight on his arm so he could see her better. The pleasure he saw written on her face and her jagged little breaths were irresistible. She was so perfect. He could hardly believe that she was here with him and that he barely had to touch her to get such a response. He lowered his head and brushed his lips against hers.

For some reason, the slower Sandor tended to her, the more she liked it. Arya’s lips parted invitingly and Sandor accepted her invitation and gifted her with deep and loving kisses as he used his tongue to satisfy something inside of her that craved tenderness. It was strange how they had managed to find each other. She had not known anyone like Sandor existed. Why had she wasted so much time on a couple of idiotic men that weren’t capable of giving her what she needed? How could she have been so stupid?

. . . . .

After he had kissed her senseless, Sandor finally remembered the goodies he had arranged for Arya. He raised his head and looked down into her beautiful grey eyes. He was pleased to see how much she must have enjoyed his attentions. She looked rather blissful. “Arya, I have a treat for you.” He confided proudly.

“Mmm?” Arya murmured dreamily. Sandor wasn’t the only one who had floated off into the clouds.

Sandor got out of bed and opened the refrigerator. He took out the bottle of Veuve Clicquot Brut Arbor Rose Champagne he had purchased and opened it. He paired it with a small cut-crystal bowl of the white chocolate covered strawberries her friend had prepared.

Arya sat up against the headboard and smiled when Sandor handed her a flute of the champagne. He got back into bed beside her and offered her one of the berries. She almost laughed. Who knew Sandor was such a romantic? Shireen would be thrilled to hear about this. Arya opened her mouth and Sandor dutifully fed her. She fed him another of the delicious berries next and then they took turns while they sipped their champagne.

They were laughing and kissing when Sandor’s phone started to ring. Sandor leapt up and glanced at the caller. “Shit. It’s my boss.” He let it go to voicemail. He set his phone on the bedside table. “This is supposed to be my night off! Why do they need to call me? If they need someone, why in the Seven Hells don’t they wake someone up at the security complex?”

Arya was surprised at how angry Sandor had become. She put her hand on his arm. “Are you sure you shouldn’t find out what’s wrong?”

“No! They probably just need someone for an extra shift because Joff is causing problems by taking a girl on an overnight excursion somewhere.” Sandor gulped down the rest of his drink. “He’s usually the one who makes all the extra work.”

Sandor’s phone chimed with a text message alert. Then it chimed again. Sandor began to fume with resentment. He reached over and turned it off without looking at the messages. He sat against the headboard huffing like a bull.

“Sandor . . .” Arya was interrupted when her phone chimed. She looked at Sandor apprehensively. She got out of bed and reached into her handbag and took out her phone and read the text message. She sighed. “I think you better check your messages, Sandor. Shireen says Joffrey had been assaulted and has been taken to the hospital.”

Sandor still didn’t make a move towards his phone so Arya texted Shireen for more info. “Apparently, Shireen was at a birthday party with Tommen when he got notified Joff was beat up at a club by someone named . . . Ramsay.” She looked up at Sandor and frowned. “I think Sansa might have mentioned him to me.”

Sandor laughed unpleasantly. “About time someone kicked his ass. Trant and whoever else was with him are going to be in lots of trouble, though. I’m glad it’s not me.”

Arya continued to text Shireen. “Shireen says Joff’s mother is having a meltdown.”

Sandor sighed. “Well, how bad is he hurt?”

Arya texted some more. “No one knows for sure.” She answered.

Sandor reached over and looked at his phone. “Shit, there’s a couple of voicemails from Cersei and . . . Fuck! There’s even a message from Tywin Lannister.” Sandor listened to his messages and then he texted someone. “I’m sorry, Arya. I’m going to have to go in to work. Apparently, Joff’s nose and eye socket are broken and he’s going to have to have some surgery. His mother, Cersei, is insisting I have to be there to protect him.”

Arya smiled and stood up and pulled her dress over her head. “Well, it’s kind of flattering, really. They must have more confidence in you than anyone else.”

Sandor gave her a dirty look. “Lucky me.”

Sandor brought up Arya’s former mentor on the drive back to Arya’s condo. “Why do you think he pulled that little _stunt_ at the festival?”

She knew he wasn’t going to let her get away without discussing this. “I don’t know. We haven’t seen each other in over two years.”

Sandor turned to stare at her. “Just how old were you when you two were _together_?” He asked increduously.

Arya rolled her eyes. “If you must know, he was my teacher from when I was fourteen until I was over eighteen. It didn’t get _personal_ until I was over eighteen. Then, not long after that, we broke up.” She tried to sound casual as she looked out her window while avoiding Sandor’s scrutiny.

“You mean, you broke up after you were stabbed?”

Arya jerked her head around to look at him and he was staring directly at her. He mouth fell open while she tried to think of something to say.

Sandor’s eyes narrowed. “What’s the matter, did the cat get your tongue, Cat?”

“I don’t know what . . .”

“Come off it. Of course you know what I mean. I did a little research on the mysterious Cat of the Canals. She just so happened to be stabbed two years ago when you’d have been let’s see . . . eighteen.”

Arya retorted angrily, “You have no way of knowing how long ago I was stabbed!”

Sandor’s eyebrows shot up and he nodded knowingly.

Shit! She’d just admitted she’d been stabbed instead of having a very messy appendix surgery that had gone terribly wrong.

Sandor took some pity on her. “We don’t have to talk about this right now. I just want to make sure you are safe. What do you think he wants?”

Arya shook her head.

“Just how dangerous is he, Girl?”

Arya bit her bottom lip. “Uh.”

“Answer me, Arya.” He said sternly.

“Well, all things considered, he might be what you’d call _fairly_ dangerous?”

Sandor walked her up to the condo. “Here, don’t forget your cake.” He handed her the box with the two miniature chocolate truffle cakes. “I’ll call you later. If you hear from your creepy mentor, what was his name again?”

“Jaqen H’ghar.” Arya squirmed. She hated having to talk about this with Sandor.

“Yeah, well I want you to be really careful and if you hear from him, I want you be sure to tell me.”

“I will.”

“I mean it, Girl. Who in the Seven Hells pulls a stunt like that? He must be some kind of psychopath.”

Arya didn’t respond. Sandor bent down and kissed her goodnight.

Arya let herself in the apartment. She took the box of cakes into the kitchen. Sansa came out of her bedroom and joined Arya .

“What’s this?” She looked at the box.

“It’s some cake that Sandor had Hot Pie make for us.”

“Why didn’t you eat it? It looks smashing.”

Arya took in Sansa’s subdued and pale appearance. She took a couple of forks from the kitchen drawer. “Come on, Sansa. Let’s have some cake and you can tell me all about what happened.”

“How’d you know, Arya?”

“Sandor got a call to go in to work and Shireen Baratheon told me the basics.”

Arya and Sansa sat down at the table and began to eat the sinful cake. “Do you remember that new friend I mentioned, Ramsay Bolton?”

Arya paused with the fork halfway to her mouth. “Not Roose Bolton’s son?” She asked with concern. Roose Bolton had been an old friend of their family until they found out some very unpleasant things about him. His son had an even worse reputation.

“Yeah, that’s him.” Sansa blinked innocently.

“Really, Sansa. Really! What is wrong with you! You just got away from the horrid Joffrey and now you decide to take up with Ramsay Fucking Bolton?”

Sansa sniffed. “Well, I haven’t exactly _taken_ up with him but we did go on a date. Joff was there and decided to be his usual crude self and . . .”

“And what?”

“He and Ramsay exchanged words. Joff tried to take a swing at him and Ramsay mopped the floor with his face. It was horrible. There was blood everywhere.”

Arya couldn’t help but notice the little smile playing at the corners of her sister’s mouth.

. . . . .

It was bright and early on Tuesday morning. Joff was still in the hospital recovering from his surgery. He wasn’t really hurt all that bad as far as Sandor could tell. Cersei and her father, Tywin, were furious that Ramsay Bolton had not been arrested. Since that stupid Joff had initiated the fight it had been deemed self-defense on Bolton’s side. Sandor found it hard to believe Joff seriously thought he was capable of beating anyone up other than a young lady. Well, he hadn’t beaten any young ladies to Sandor’s knowledge but he knew he liked to shove them and slap them.

Meryn Trant had been put on unpaid administrative leave and Mandon Moore had been fired following the incident with Joff. Now Sandor and the remaining security team were waiting outdoors in the lot beside the security complex for some new hotshot combatives trainer that Tywin Lannister had hired to teach them their job. He was disappointed he had not been able to see Arya again but he should be able to see her on his day off tomorrow. He was watching Arys Oakheart and Boris Blount wrestle around together on the ground when he saw his boss, Barristan Selmy look up. Sandor’s glanced over to see what Selmy was looking at and there standing with his arms crossed looking down his nose disapprovingly at the lot of them was Arya’s good friend, Jaqen H’ghar. Fuck!


	12. Whatever's Necessary

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the Lovely Flower

Barristan Selmy called his men to attention. H’ghar stood before the assembled group and eyed each and every one of them all critically before he finally spoke. “A man is called Jaqen H’ghar. He has been engaged to assess the combative skills of the men entrusted with the safety of House Baratheon. Apparently, these skills were found to be less than ideal a few days ago when a major breach of security occurred.” His eyes flicked over Sandor. “As you should well know by now, height and muscular build alone have little to do with effectiveness in hand to hand combat. Even the largest man can be taken down by someone with the right skills.”

Sandor scowled. We’ll just see who has the right skills, he thought to himself.

“A man shall begin with a demonstration.” H’ghar looked them over again until his eyes landed on Sandor once again. “How much do you weigh?”

Sandor was more than ready to grapple with Arya’s former flame. “I weigh 240 lbs.”

“Ah, the big man weighs about 109 kg. This man weighs about 80 kg or 175 lbs. We shall have a drill. A man will demonstrate how to escape from the mount position.” H’ghar got down on the ground. Sandor readily sat high up on the bastard’s chest. It was a favorable position in several ways. He would be able to generate considerable momentum for strikes to H’ghar’s head or other advantages such as chokeholds and joint locks.

Unfortunately, H’ghar began before Sandor was expecting him to and the high mount gave the wily little fucker the opportunity to use the elbow escape by using his elbows to create space in between himself and Sandor and then he worked one of his legs and then the other between the two of them which he then used to obtain the half guard position.

Sandor tried to untangle his leg but H’ghar went into the lockdown where he further intertwined his legs to make a figure four. He then used his most extended leg to drive Sandor’s foot upward limiting his ability to pass to full mount or side control. He then performed a sweep and was able to reverse the grappling position.

Now H’ghar was on Sandor’s chest. Jaqen grinned wickedly as he immediately began to perform a joint lock on Sandor’s elbow. Sandor was forced to submit before his elbow became hyper-extended and he got muscle, tendon or ligament damage or even a dislocation or fracture. At least the fucker held back once Sandor had submitted.

H’ghar smirked and leaned in close so only Sandor could hear what he had to say. “As a man tried to inform a dog; a man with the right skills will always win. That goes for hand to hand combat as well as other, shall we say, more personal things. A lovely girl values skill above all else. A dog can only lose.”

He then got up and began to direct Sandor’s co-workers into partnering up for the next drill. Sandor got up slowly. His elbow was sore but it was nothing compared to his hurt pride. Worse than anything that Sandor had to endure was the thought that Arya had spent four years with the ruthless swine and if that wasn’t enough, he’d just admitted his intentions were to win her back again.

. . . . .

Sansa was starting to worry Arya. She didn’t know that much about Ramsay Bolton but she had heard some really bad rumors. She knew enough to know something was seriously wrong with him. She also had an idea that the more you try to warn someone not to do something; the more they wanted to do it. Even if she succeeded in making Sansa see sense this time, what was to prevent her from choosing someone else just as bad or worse?

She wished she knew someone to talk to about things. She doubted Shireen would be a help in this situation. She wondered just what Jaqen wanted after all this time. She’d made a mistake by going to the Moon Pool and showing off. She wouldn’t be surprised if the rumor that the Cat of the Canals had resurfaced there had brought her to Jaqen’s attention once again. Jaqen may be thrilling and seductive but she wanted absolutely no part of him. She’d learned her lesson the hard way.

When Sansa had said she was going to go to dinner with Jeyne and Margaery, Arya had surprised her by asking to go along. While Arya had been expecting some chic and trendy, upscale restaurant, she was pleased to find they had settled on the King’s Hand Gastropub. The décor was tasteful with lots of polished wood and brass. There was a wonderful selection of cask and draft ales. Arya had a Polish-style pierogi with oyster mushrooms which was to die for.

Just when Arya thought her head would explode from talk of the upcoming King’s Landing Fashion Week, a gentleman wearing a suit and tie approached their table. He grinned at them cockily. He was somewhat weathered and sported a broken nose but he had striking blue eyes. “Excuse me, ladies, the owner, Mr. Tyrion Lannister, sent me to ask if everything is to your liking?” He nodded toward Joff’s uncle who was seated at a small table near the door to the kitchen nursing a bottle of wine.

Sansa beamed over at Mr. Lannister and waved. “Oh, yes! The food was delightful. What is your name?”

The man’s face lit up. “Why, I’m Mr. Lannister’s associate, Bronn Blackwater.”

“Mr. Blackwater, if Mr. Lannister isn’t too busy, I wonder if the both of you would join us for a drink?”

“Of course, Ms. Stark. We would be delighted.” He gave a curious little bow and left to retrieve his boss.

Margaery and Jeyne immediately started tittering like a couple of teenagers. Sansa shushed them. “Be nice! Tyrion is a real sweetheart.”

Arya started. She looked from her sister’s smiling face to the older and much shorter Tyrion Lannister who was smiling every bit as much right back at Sansa. Tyrion proceeded to sit beside Sansa and regail them all with witty observations and anecdotes. No one laughed louder than Sansa. Bronn pulled a chair up beside Margaery as close as he could get and surprisingly, he had a vast amount of charm as well. Margaery began to snort in a decidedly unladylike way at some of his more irreverent and bawdy stories. Arya and Jeyne were left to stare at each other in amazement at the turn of events.

Eventually, Sansa politely asked after Joffrey’s health but Arya noticed she didn’t mention she had been there when his injuries occurred. If Tyrion knew she was a catalyst for Joff’s comeuppance, he was too wise to mention it. Not long after, Arya found herself in the ladies room with Margaery. Arya was washing her hands while Margaery primped in the mirror.

“Thank goodness, a real man has finally arrived on the scene to sweep Sansa off her feet.” Margaery declared.

Arya was taken aback. “What do you mean?”

Margaery just gave her a look. “You do know your sister is dating that piece of . . . work, Ramsay Bolton, don’t you? Ugh!”

Arya nodded. “I don’t know what to do.”

“Let’s just keep our fingers crossed and hope Tyrion comes through like a knight on a white horse.”

“What! But Tyrion’s too . . .” She’d been about to say Tyrion was too old for Sansa but who was she to judge? Sandor wasn’t exactly a teenage boy.

Margaery applied some lipstick. “Sometimes a more mature man is more settled and responsible.”

Arya hesitated a moment before she came to a decision. “If Sansa does go out with Ramsay again and you just happen to be around, could you keep an eye on her?”

Margaery turned to her very seriously. “You got it.”

She supposed it was a little strange. She was diminutive and liked Sandor who was a giant. Apparently, Sansa, who was very tall for a woman, appeared to be somewhat attracted to a diminutive man. Arya really didn’t know Tyrion but she hoped he had good intentions.

. . . . .

Arya decided to make dinner for Sandor on their date. She decided it was only fair to return the favor since he’d treated her once already. Sansa had gone out earlier with Margaery and she and Sandor would have the condo to themselves. She had decided to make Eggplant Caponata, a traditional Braavosi dish. She prepared the ingredients in advance of Sandor’s arrival. She cut up three beautiful purple-black aubergines, onions, garlic, tomatoes and celery. She set out the capers, raisins, Pine nuts and red wine vinegar as well as the olive oil onto the kitchen counter. She placed a big, black cast-iron skillet on the stove top.

When Sandor arrived, Arya could immediately tell something was wrong. For one thing Sandor had a black eye. “Oh! What happened, Sandor?” She pulled on his arm so she could get him to bend down so she could get a closer look but he winced in pain at her touch.

He frowned. “It’s nothing. We were wrestling around at work and I got slightly injured.”

Arya found it hard to believe anyone could hurt someone as big and powerful as Sandor. She remembered he was far and away superior to any of the other security officers at the Red Keep when she had last visited there. He followed her into the kitchen where she poured him a glass of his favorite Dornish red wine. “Are you hungry? I’m starved. Just let me throw this into the skillet and get it going and then we can sit down and talk while it simmers.”

Sandor watched her cook in silence. She supposed he would tell her what was bothering him when he was ready. “How was work today?” He finally asked her.

Arya smiled. “It was fine. I took one less client this afternoon so I could get home early and make you dessert.”

“You didn’t have to do that, Girl. Just seeing you is dessert enough for me.” Sandor put his arms around her while she stood at the stove. He rested his chin on the top of her head.

“Oh, then you won’t mind if Sansa and I eat all the tiramisu I made. By the way, we both enjoyed the chocolate truffle cakes too.” She teased.

“Well, I wouldn’t want to force you two to stuff yourselves. I might have some dessert after all.”

She turned to look at him and he was smiling. She laughed. “Well, if you play your cards right, you might get more than one type of dessert after dinner.” She waggled her eyebrows at him suggestively while she waved the spatula in the air.

Suddenly, Sandor was pressing her against the counter as his mouth found hers and his hands found everywhere else. Apparently, Sandor wasn’t going to wait until after dinner for dessert. Arya murmured for him to let her turn down the caponata. He let her go long enough to place the lid onto the skillet and set the timer. There was no sense in letting the house burn down. Arya led him to her bedroom but this time they were smart enough to lock the door against any unwanted interruptions.

Sandor sat on the edge of her bed. “Come here, Arya.” He patted his lap.

Arya straddled his lap and looked into Sandor’s lust-darkened eyes. She didn’t know what had come over him but she wasn’t going to complain.

“Kiss me like you mean it, Girl.”

Arya had no trouble obliging him. She meant it. She meant every bit of it. Arya was rubbing herself on his cock as his hands found her breasts. Sandor decided she was worth getting his ass handed to him again this morning by her former love. At least, this time Sandor had got in a few shots of his own and the red-haired fucker had sported a nice nosebleed courtesy of Sandor’s fist.

Sandor lifted Arya’s shirt over her head and Arya unclasped her bra and pulled Sandor’s head down to her breasts. Sandor grunted as he teased her dark nipples with his tongue. Arya’s head was thrown back and she was sighing with pleasure. Sandor used his teeth and she groaned deeply. Gods! He couldn’t believe how willing she was to be touched by him.

“Sandor, I want to feel you.” She grasped his shirt and pulled it over his head and remembered to be gentle with his hurt arm. The extra bit of tenderness did something to Sandor’s insides. He wanted to show her how much she meant to him. He wanted to please her; he wanted to hear her call his name on her lips.

Arya stood up and removed her shorts. She was wearing a black lacy thong and Sandor wanted to tear it in half but then she reached down and unsnapped his jeans and eagerly helped him to undress until he was completely naked. She urged him to get further onto the bed. He sat with his back against the headboard and Arya mounted him. He put his hands on her waist and she began to slowly undulate on his lap.

My Gods, his cock was hard. It was so large she just knew that it was going to become an issue. She tossed her head. She wasn't afraid of anything. She ground herself on him and held onto his shoulders as she pushed her breasts into his face. Sandor moaned and took hold of her breast with one hand while he guided her waist with the other and helped her set a rhythm that was beneficial for the both of them.

Sandor was trying to keep her breast in his mouth as she was she was rubbing her lace panties against him but he could feel how wet she was underneath. He wanted desperately to feel her skin against his. Sandor moved his hand and pushed the fabric aside. Arya got the message. She got up and took off her panties. She reached inside her bedside drawer and took out a bottle of coconut oil and sat back down on Sandor’s thighs as she took him in hand and slicked him up with the oil. She took hold of his hand and added some to his palm and then placed his hand on herself.

Sandor enjoyed rubbing the oil onto and especially into her body. She quivered and called out. She had intended on teasing his cock by capturing it with her labia but his finger inside of her was too much. She ground down on it and began wildly to ride on it and toss her head. Sandor watched as her chest heaved and her breasts bounced. Fine droplets of sweat popped out on forehead as she raised herself up on her knees and pushed herself harder and harder onto his hand.

“Yes! Oh Gods, Sandor! OH! He used his thumb on her clit and Sandor couldn’t believe how hard she was breathing as she struggled to maintain control. She shouted again as he slipped in a second finger and Arya became even more vocal as she bucked desperately. He couldn't resist as he used his fingers to massage her sweet spot and he used his other hand to steady her and she began to keen.

“That’s it, Girl, Oh! That’s it! You are so fine! You are my fine, fine, wild Girl!”

Arya clenched down on him as her wall fluttered and she shattered into a million pieces for Sandor Clegane. Sandor decided then and there he would do whatever was necessary to keep her.


	13. If That's True

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the Lovely Flower

Neither Arya nor Sandor heard the timer at first. Luckily, the caponata had not burned. After quickly getting dressed and washing up, Arya hurried to whip up some bruschetta as an appetizer. Earlier in the evening before Sandor had arrived, she had diced up some fresh tomatoes that Sansa had picked up at the farmer’s market. She then used a chiffonade cut on some basil leaves and put it in a bowl with the tomatoes. She added some extra virgin olive oil, some dried oregano, salt and a splash of balsamic vinegar and had put it in the refrigerator to chill.

All she had to do was slice the crusty baguette, rub some fresh cut garlic on both sides of the bread and brush on some olive oil. She then used a cast iron grill pan and began to toast the bread until it was nicely browned.

Sandor watched her work not only because he wanted to learn how to make the recipe but because he found her so incredibly fascinating. No woman he had dated had made the effort to do something as personal as cooking him a meal. Of course, none of the women had been anywhere near as good as Arya was to him. He liked that she wanted to cook for him and he enjoyed being taken care of. It made him feel special.

He watched her delicate, slender hands and how her brows knit together as she concentrated. He thought about when they were in her bedroom earlier and how much he wanted to let himself go and flip her over and have his way with her. He couldn’t imagine how it would feel to have her beneath him with her walls clenched tightly around his length as he gave it to her hard and fast but he had restrained himself. For one thing, she was so small he was afraid he might hurt her. For another thing, he didn’t want to push her into anything she wasn’t ready for. He would never forgive himself if he hurt her either physically or in any other way.

Arya finally finished by adding the tomato mixture to the toasted bread and dished up the eggplant caponata. She glanced up at Sandor and caught the tender expression in his deep brown eyes. “Oh, Sandor.” She murmured as she abandoned the food to pull him into her embrace. She lifted her head up from his chest and smiled so sweetly that Sandor couldn’t help but to bend down and kiss her softly.

Arya had never felt so cared for in all her life. She wanted to show Sandor how much he meant to her but she realized it might be a good idea to let him eat first. She grinned as she placed dinner on the table. Sandor sat down and captured her waist in his big hands and maneuvered her onto his lap. “Feed me some of your bread, Girl.”

Arya laughed and held up the bruschetta to his lips. He took a bite and his eyes rolled back into his head. “Oh Gods, woman! It’s fantastic, just like you.” He kissed her again.

Arya was well-pleased. Arya had been closed down for so long. Who knew that opening up and giving to someone else could get such a response? But then she realized that no one else would have responded like Sandor. He was not like anyone else. Sandor was one of a kind. She impulsively gave him another kiss.

Sandor patted her thighs. “Alright, Girlie. I’m going to let you go now so you can eat before the food gets cold.”

. . . . .

After dinner, Sandor found himself oiled up, naked and spread-eagled on Arya’s bed as she languidly sucked his cock. At first, his instinct had been to clasp her head between his hands but she'd pushed them away. His hands were left to tightly grip and twist the sheet beneath him. His heart was pounding like mad but Arya seemed to be aware of when the excitement became too much for him and she would ease up until he was able to regain control.

Her mouth was so warm and velvety. At first, she would slowly work him with the flat of her tongue and then she'd increase the pace and alternate between licking and sucking him noisily and messily until she'd worked him into a frenzy. Just as he would finally believe she would let him come, she'd pull back again. It was the most exquisite torture. Sandor's body was slick with sweat. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over him. She kept him in a constant state of desperation with her lips wrapped tightly around him. He started to moan and couldn't stop. She teased the head of his cock by rubbing her wet lips gently over the fleshy head before using the tip of her tongue over the rim and then she swirled her tongue all around it. After awhile, she released his cock and kissed the tip.

She took him in hand and massaged the highly sensitive spot on the underside of his cock where the shaft met the head. She could feel him trembling beneath her. She took his hand to reassure him and grazed the skin on the inside of his wrist with her lips and tongue as she looked up into his eyes from under her eyelashes. The candlelight in the room flickered over her body and her eyes shone. She was beautiful and dangerous looking. He remembered long ago hearing rumors that the Starks were actually part wolves. He’d laughed at the time but now he wasn’t quite so sure. If she decided to devour him he would at least die a happy man. He reached out and pulled her up over him as he kissed her fiercely.

"Oh, Sandor! Oh!" She rubbed her bare sex all over his manhood as the oil made her slippery. Sandor grasped her waist and propelled her back and forth desperately needing some friction."Oh, you're enormous, you're incredible, Oh Sandor!" Arya began to shake and moan and she threw her head back. He didn't quite understand what he'd done to make her have an orgasm but it was undeniably happening.

Her mind-blowing assault on his senses was too much. Sandor finally broke as his breath came out in great gasps and his chest heaved. He was beyond moaning. He was shouting. “Arya, I’m going to come!” He sat up quickly and pushed her off and grasped his cock in his hands just before he ejaculated. A shudder wracked his entire body as he lost control.

. . . . .

Arya lay awake in Sandor’s arms a long time after he’d fallen asleep. They'd held each other so tenderly and kissed for ages. The only thing that had upset her was how he’d pushed her away after he’d so unnecessarily informed her that he was about to show her the proof of his pleasure. She smiled to herself. She’d have to let him know it was alright. She was more than willing to take care of it for him the next time it happened.

Arya awoke sometime later. She had heard Sansa’s voice and she sounded distressed. She untangled herself from Sandor’s massive bear hug and got up and cracked open her door so she could listen. Sansa was talking to someone in a hushed tone. She heard another woman’s voice and assumed it was Margaery. She couldn’t hear what they were saying and was about to go back to bed when she heard Sansa sob.

Arya threw on her robe and went out into the kitchen. Sansa was sitting at the table and her face was red and tearful. Margaery was dishing up the leftover tiramisu Arya had made for dessert. Margaery offered to get some for Arya too but she shook her head. Arya sat in one of the chairs and waited for someone to tell her what was going on.

No one spoke. Finally, Arya got exasperated. “Well? What happened? What’s wrong?”

Sansa looked like she might cry again so she turned to Margaery.

Margaery took a deep breath. “First of all, Sansa is safe. She had a very unpleasant experience but she wasn’t actually . . . he didn’t . . . shit!” She finished lamely.

Arya was alarmed. “What! What the fuck happened to Sansa?”

Sansa reached out her hand and covered Arya’s hand with her own. “Everything is fine. I just got a little frightened is all. I’m sure Ramsay wouldn’t have . . . actually gone through with it.”

Arya stared at her with her mouth open. “What do you mean?”

Sansa shook her head so Arya looked to Margaery again.

Margaery sat down at the table. “We went to spend the evening with friends at Harold Harding’s house. Ramsay showed up, uninvited I might add, and behaved quite decently for someone like him. Sansa tried to tell him she didn’t want to see him anymore and he convinced her to go into the library to talk.”

Shit! Arya did not like where the story was headed. She examined Sansa again. She didn’t appear to be injured anywhere but Arya was beginning to get mad.

“Anyway,” Margaery continued. “He locked the door and tried to force himself on her.”

Sansa interrupted. “He said I owed it to him for taking care of Joffrey for me.” She made a disgusted face. “Can you imagine? I was really scared. He started to get really handsy. At first, I couldn’t believe he really meant it but he wouldn’t listen to me and he wouldn’t let me leave. Luckily, Margaery came looking for me and started screaming down the house when she discovered I was in the library with Ramsay and he wouldn’t open the door.”

Arya got up and knelt down and put her arms around Sansa’s shoulders. Sansa shed a few more tears but she didn’t cry. Arya looked up at Margaery. She wanted to take back all that crap she’d said about Sansa’s friends not being her true friends. Margaery had looked out for her and had not deserted her. Arya shuddered to think what would have happened if Margaery had not been there. Arya fumed silently over how that creep had treated her sister. She didn’t start yelling about Ramsay because she knew it would upset Sansa even more.

Eventually, Arya joined them in their midnight snack and after everyone had some tea and had calmed down, Margaery got up to leave. Arya followed her to the door. “Thank you, I won’t forget this.”

Margaery smiled her lopsided smile. “It was nothing. All I did was scream.” Her face then became more serious. “Although, I think she’s underplaying what really happened. I think he had every intention of assaulting her.”

Sansa was in her bathroom brushing her teeth. She looked up at Arya as she entered the room. “Did you have a nice dinner this evening? Your dessert was delicious.”

“Yes, this evening was fine. Sandor’s still here by the way. He’s asleep. I hope that’s alright.”

Sansa gave a short laugh. “Actually, I’m glad he’s here. It makes me feel a little safer.”

Arya threw her arms around Sansa again. She wanted to tell her everything was going to be alright but instead she told her to be extra careful. Sansa nodded in agreement. It was after eleven and they both needed to get up early for work the next day so Arya finally went back to bed. She lay beside Sandor and thought about that pig, Ramsay Bolton. If he thought he could go around attacking the Stark women, he had better think again.

. . . . .

The next morning, Sandor had a quick bagel with cream cheese with Arya and Sansa. He felt a little uncomfortable since he knew Sansa wasn’t all that fond of him. Both women had to go to work and even though it was his day off, he had to go to combatives training and face another round with Arya’s dear friend. As he kissed her goodbye he remembered that they still hadn’t had their talk. He smiled to himself. He’d gotten totally distracted once again but he wasn’t about to complain about it.

When he got down to the lobby, he saw that Harwin was on duty at the desk. He didn’t really like anyone knowing he’d spent the night with Arya. He felt like some kind of knight that was worried about his fair maiden’s reputation or something.

Harwin greeted him pleasantly. “Good morning, Mr. Clegane.” He hesitated a moment. “Is everything alright with Ms. Sansa?”

Sandor just looked at him and raised his eyebrow questioningly.

“I mean, she was crying when she arrived home last night.” Harwin whispered confidentially.

Sandor just nodded. Neither one of them had said a word to him this morning about anything being wrong. Leave it to the both of them to leave him in the dark. It reminded him of when Arya had confessed that Jaqen H’ghar might be _fairly_ dangerous. Really? _Fairly fucking dangerous_? She should have warned him. She knew damn well he was as dangerous as they come.

. . . . .

When Sandor got to the security complex he took a shower and flopped down on his bed. He couldn’t seem to wipe the stupid smile off his face. He felt strong and powerful because of Arya. She made him feel good about himself. Seven Hells, she made him feel good all over. He couldn’t wait to see her again. Sandor promptly fell into a satisfied sleep.

He was in the middle of a dream where he had Arya moaning his name. Someone beat on his door and woke him up. Shit! He stared at his alarm clock. It was time to go out and face the bastard. He’d had just about enough of him. He was determined to best him and if that wasn’t possible, he at least wanted him to feel some pain.

Sandor noted that although H’ghar demonstrated combat skills with his co-workers, he only ever grappled with Sandor. He knew that not only was he was trying to physically intimidate him but he was trying to get to him psychologically as well. What did he take him for? Did he actually believe he would back down and walk away from Arya?

He just knew the bastard was responsible for Arya being stabbed. He’d read that a jealous female rival had stabbed her. He wouldn’t be surprised if H’ghar had pitted them against each other. Stomach wounds were extremely serious. She very easily could have died. Not only that, he was pretty sure Arya had become the best sword fighter in Braavos because H’ghar had ruthlessly given her little choice in the matter. He didn’t seem like the type of man to have an ounce of pity or sympathy for a girl no matter how lovely he thought she was.

H’ghar faced the men. He had them begin with a series of drills he'd already taught them. He walked around between them and watched them and corrected their techniques when necessary. Sandor was performing drills with Arys Oakheart when H’ghar tapped him on the shoulder. He motioned for him to stand up.

“It is time to learn a new technique.” With no further warning, H’ghar shot forward and onto his knee while he held both of Sandor’s legs and swung one of his legs around and pushed Sandor forward while tripping his leg out from under him. Sandor went down hard. He couldn’t believe he’d been done in by the double leg and trip. H’ghar got him in a shoulder lock and leaned down close to Sandor’s face. “The bigger they are, the harder they fall.”

Sandor refused to submit to the pressure on his shoulder. “Well, Arya wasn’t complaining about how big I was last night.”

H’ghar’s pale blue eyes widened and Sandor swore he could see fury in their depths. The man seemed to lose his iron control and his grip on Sandor at the same time. With a surge of confidence Sandor pressed his advantage and used the push sweep by pushing the bastard's knee out from under him with his foot and then he was able to twist H’ghar off him and reverse positions until he was sitting on H’ghar’s chest. Sandor put him in an elbow lock.

“A man can make Arya come six ways with his little finger.” H’ghar ground out angrily.

“ _If_ that’s true, why is she with me and not you?” Sandor applied just a little bit more pressure to his joint.

H’ghar grunted with pain. His face was bright red. “A Hound is just a big, dumb dog with no finesse.”

“Maybe Arya prefers big things. I imagine your fingers aren’t the only thing about you that's small.” From the look on H’ghar’s face, Sandor knew his insult had struck a nerve.


	14. My Hero

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the Lovely Flower

It was Friday night. Sandor had to work and Sansa went over to Loras Tyrell’s penthouse apartment with Margaery for a dinner party. Arya had declined Shireen’s invitation to dinner. She had also declined Gendry’s text asking her to go to a kickboxing tournament with him. Arya had other things on her mind. Namely, a certain well-built, dark-haired man was the focus of her attention at present. She giggled as he bought her drink after drink at the Tower Club.

She’d spotted him across the crowded room as soon as she’d walked into the club all by herself. She was wearing her black leather boots with the square heels, stretchy black jeans and a low-cut black bustier with a matching short jacket. Her breasts were nearly popping out the top of the bustier but Arya didn’t mind. She understood that when you went out to snare a man, you had to be equipped with the right kind of bait.

Her companion entertained her with small talk and boasts about his accomplishments. “It won’t be long now until I’m going to become vice-president of the family business.” He bragged.

“Ooh! Really? You must be so very important.” Arya leaned forward and grasped his arm as she gave him a good look at her tits. She took a sip of her rum and coke and dribbled a little bit on her cleavage. “Whoops!”

“Here, let me take care of that for you.” The stranger picked up a napkin and dutifully dabbed at her breasts.

“Oh, thank you! I can’t believe I’m so clumsy.” She frowned. “Usually, I only have a wine spritzer or two when I go out with my friends. I’ve never had hard liquor before.”

“Where are your friends, by the way? Are they out on the dance floor or something?”

Arya pouted. “No, my silly friends wanted to do boring things tonight like watch movies and go to a sporting event. Ha! I wanted to go dancing.” Arya twisted a strand of her hair around her finger. “Do you dance?” She batted her eyelashes.

He smiled. “Would you like to dance, Arry?”

Arya jumped off the barstool and beamed. “Oh, I thought you’d never ask!”

A stocky man sat at a table nearby and nursed a coke. He watched as the couple passed by his table on the way to the dance floor. He thought to himself that the girl looked very young. He doubted she was even old enough to drink. She appeared to have dressed herself up in an attempt to look older than she was. He shook his head. It was obvious the man with her was pouring on the charm while trying to get her drunk. He wondered why her mother had never warned her about men like him. He saw the girl stumble a couple of times. It wouldn’t be long now he supposed.

Arya attempted some of the grinding moves she’d used on Gendry and Sandor. She couldn’t say for sure but she thought her companion was enjoying it. He didn’t move away at least. His arousal just wasn’t as noticeable like it had been with the other two men. Of course, Sandor was so well-endowed it was frightening and Gendry wasn’t exactly small either. This man, on the other hand, may not have had much to work with below the belt.

“Oh, l’m thirsty!” Arya exclaimed. “Let’s sit down.”

Her companion put his arm around her small waist and helped her to a table. He liked how delicate and fragile she was. She looked as if a strong wind could blow her over. She sat down and propped her elbows on the table and rested her head in her hands and smiled up at him very sweetly.

He figured she’d had enough to drink that she just might be persuaded to go with him on a little adventure. “This place is too loud and too hot. How about we go on a little stroll around the moonlit bay to cool off and then we stop for a little late night snack?”

Arya immediately jumped up. “That sounds like a great idea! The moonlit bay is so romantic. The last time I was there I lost my head and kissed the wrong man.” She confessed and then pressed her hands over her mouth with embarrassment.

He chuckled at how big and round her eyes had become. “It’s alright, Arry. I won’t tell on you.” He smiled down at her and his blue eyes fairly shown with a feverish glee.

As they walked outside into the cool night air, neither one of them noticed as two men stood up and followed after them. Arya continued to stumble every now and then but was feeling fine. The stocky man who had been watching them while he drank a coke kept several hundred feet behind. He shook his head at how unsteady the girl appeared to be.

A red-haired man followed behind him and shook his head at how unsteady the lovely girl appeared to be. He thought she might be overdoing it a little.

Arya’s companion led her through a dimly lit alley. He looked around at how secluded and dark it was and decided it was the perfect place for a little action. He only planned on hurting her a little. He chuckled to himself. Who was he kidding?

Arya looked around at the dark alley and thought how secluded and dark it was and decided it was the perfect place for a little action. She was only planning on hurting him a little. She chuckled to herself. Who was she kidding? Arya stopped walking. Her companion didn’t notice at first and continued walking ahead of her. Arya’s teeth glinted in the moonlight.

The pig never saw it coming. Arya took a flying run at Ramsay Bolton and shoved him forward and he went sprawling on the hard cobblestones. He was stunned but recovered quickly, he rolled over with a skinning knife in his hand but Arya knew all about the Bolton family sigil of a red flayed man and their family motto, “Our Blades are Sharp”. She kicked the blade from his hand and it went clattering off into the darkness. Next, she stomped his nose with her boot heel as he hollered in pain.

The stocky man came at a dead run when he saw what was happening. Unfortunately for him, the red-haired man behind him did the same and shoved him forward face first onto the ground. He tried to turn over and defend himself but the man was on top of him and before he knew what was happening, the man had zip-tied both his hands and feet and then used a rope to tie the plastic strips together.

The red-haired man then ripped off the stocky man’s necktie and stuffed it in his mouth. His captor stood and gave him a good swift kick in his ribs and he grimaced with pain. He watched helplessly as his boss, Ramsay Bolton, was kicked again and again by the small, delicate little woman.

His captor stood with his arms folded and watched the girl work. He noted his captor not only had red hair but he also had a curious little streak of white hair on one side of his head.

“Concentrate! Don’t let your anger make you lose focus.” The red-head directed from the sidelines.

“I am focusing!” The girl yelled back at him.

“Yes, you focused so hard on your prey; you failed to notice he had a bodyguard.”

Arya paused a moment and glanced back at the stocky man hog-tied on the ground. She gave Ramsay another kick. “I thought you were some big, scary man! What are you doing with a _bodyguard_?”

Ramsay curled himself into a ball and blubbered.

Arya rolled her eyes disdainfully. “It figures. You can dish it out but you can’t take it. Listen well, you animal! Stay far away from Sansa unless you want to be hurt even worse!” Arya gave him a final kick and stomped off.

Jaqen stepped forward and looked down at the sniveling Ramsay Bolton. “A man apologizes for a headstrong girl. She is young and kind-hearted. She does not yet understand that the most effective way to stop a man from misbehaving is not by making him suffer. She fails to see that the most effective way to stop a man from misbehaving is to kill him.”

Ramsay’s eyes went wild and he got up on his hands and knees and skittered away like a spider.

. . . . . .

Arya strode purposefully back to the Tower Club parking lot where there was a taxi stand. She could hear footsteps behind her. She glanced back over her shoulder to make sure it was Jaqen. Obviously, he had wanted her to hear him because no one was more silent on his feet than him. She kept on walking. She had no interest in what he had to say about anything.

She imagined the first thing he would do was to chastise her over her little mission and all the foolish mistakes she had made. She had been foolish too. She couldn’t believe she hadn’t spotted Ramsay’s security man. She could have taken on the both of them if she had to but the security man would have had the element of surprise on her. She supposed she owed Jaqen but if she balanced that against everything he owed her, he still had a long way to go before they were even.

As far as she was concerned, he had lost his right to criticize her a long time ago; about two years ago to be exact. Although Jaqen had been the martial arts teacher at her prep school, she had found out after she graduated that his teacher persona was just a cover. The whole Cat of the Canals thing had been a politically designed move by his handler as a way to embarrass the Braavosi government. She’d been a totally clueless pawn in their game.

She had lived in Braavos. Everyone knew about the religious cult of assassins that had their base there in the Temple of the Black and White. The Faceless Men were an open secret. It wasn’t until after she and Jaqen were together that had discovered just what he really did for a living. At the time, she thought she had accidentally found out and assured him that she would never tell. Now that she was a little wiser, she realized she hadn’t _accidentally_ discovered anything. She believed he had targeted her all along. Everything he’d taught her while she was at school, the romance afterwards, everything he did was designed to groom her; to bring her into the fold of the Faceless Men.

Jaqen caught up to her but he wisely held his tongue. As she neared the taxi stand, he took her arm. “A man will give a girl a ride.”

She removed her arm from his grasp. “No thank you. Goodbye, Jaqen.” She walked away and left him behind.

“A man apologizes for a dog’s nose.” He called after her.

Arya stopped. She turned back around and marched back to her former flame. “What do you mean?”

He shrugged. “A man’s elbow slipped.”

“What do you mean? Have you hurt Sandor?” Her eyes flashed.

“Ah, a girl is not informed?”

Arya stood there fuming. “Are you trying to tell me you’ve had a . . . confrontation with Sandor?”

Jaqen cracked his knuckles nonchalantly. “Is that his name?”

She stamped her foot. “Don’t play games with me! What have you done!”

“There was no confrontation. A man has been instructing a dog and his woefully inadequate security team in the art of hand to hand combat. An _accident_ occurred during training is all. He is perfectly fine. It is only a cosmetic injury.”

His explanation sounded perfectly reasonable except that Jaqen would have no business training a security team and more than that, he didn’t _accidentally_ do anything. He _purposefully_ did things. She bit down on her bottom lip as she struggled to keep her temper in check. “When did this happen?”

“Yesterday.”

“Is that when you began training?”

“A Hound has kept silent?”

She’d spoken to Sandor earlier that evening on the phone. He’d never said a word. Then she remembered his black eye and sore arm from earlier in the week. Shit! “You . . . you . . .” She was so angry she couldn’t speak.

He observed her anger coolly. “Is a girl going to follow this man to a bar, dress provocatively, pretend to get drunk and then lure a man into a dark alley so she can threaten him with her feet?” He mocked.

“First of all, I didn’t _lure_ Bolton anywhere. He thought he was luring me. Second of all . . .”

He leaned forward. “Second of all . . . what?”

“I doubt I could take you unawares.” Her face flushed. “You stay away from Sandor!”

Jaqen nodded. “The training was concluded this morning.”

Arya searched his face and noticed a bruise on his jaw and that his own nose was slightly swollen. A small smile formed on her lips.

He put his hand up to cover the bruise. “A girl revels in a man’s pain.”

Arya immediately ruled her face but she didn’t deny it. She started walking again but after a moment she realized Jaqen had not followed her. She turned back to look and he was still standing where she’d left him. He looked sort of forlorn. It was a look she’d never seen him display before during the entire time she’d know him. “Well, where’s your car?”

They ended up at the International House of Pancakes. Arya ordered stuffed French toast and Jaqen ordered a mushroom and spinach omelette. While they waited for their order, Jaqen assessed her with his pale blue eyes. “A girl, she is well?”

Arya stared back at him. Was he serious? “A girl has recovered. A girl is hard to kill.” She narrowed her eyes.

“A man is glad.”

“Is he?”

“A man never sanctioned your death.”

She smiled but the warmth never reached her eyes. Of course he did. He may or may not have ordered it but he certainly never would have gone against his religious beliefs. If the order wanted her dead, he would not have protested. He may have spent many years grooming her but he had _not_ been able to deliver. Arya had refused to become one of them.

Her disbelief in his words angered him. “A man said he did not sanction it. A man does not lie to you!”

The room went silent as people turned to stare at him after his little outburst. After they both continued to remain silent, the crowd lost interest and went about their business.

“A man was not informed in advance.” He said more quietly.

She wondered if that could be true. If it was it meant the order questioned his loyalty. If they had questioned his loyalty it meant that his coming here was a grave mistake on his part.

“They did not trust a man’s judgment.” He swallowed hard.

She could tell he was angry which was strange because he never revealed his emotions to her before. If he was revealing himself now it must have been because he had an ulterior motive. He was a most excellent actor. She wondered just what Jaqen was really up to. She decided to play along. “Well, _if_ it’s true that you did not know of their plans to eliminate me, what would you have done if you had known?”

He looked down at the table. He didn’t answer her for a long while. “There is no way to know for certain what I would have done.” He admitted.

She had to acknowledge that his answer was well-played. He had used just the right amount of wistfulness in his voice. The way he lowered his eyes was an added bonus. Arya was not fooled. He was a true master of his craft, after all. “What do you want, Jaqen?”

Just then, the waitress appeared with their order and Shireen, Hot Pie and Pod walked in the double doors and spotted her.


	15. Love is Strange

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the Lovely Flower

Arya groaned inwardly when she saw her friends coming towards her. It was past midnight and she looked for all the world as if she’d been out on a date with the man sitting across from her. She decided that the less said the better. She was aware that people had a tendency to over-explain certain situations when they had been caught doing something wrong and were feeling guilty.

Arya plastered a big smile onto her face. “Shireen! What are you guys doing here?”

“Hello, Arya.” Shireen frowned. She and Hot Pie were looking uncomfortably between Arya and Jaqen. Pod was just staring at her boobs that were spilling out of the top of her bustier.

Arya motioned to Jaqen.“Oh, this is an old friend of mine. He just breezed into town without any warning and pulled my lazy bones off the sofa and convinced me to show him the town tonight.”

Jaqen stood and gave a slight bow to Shireen. “Valar Morghulis. A man is called Jaqen H’ghar.”

Arya caught herself biting her lip. He would have to tell all of them his name. Now, if they mentioned him to Sandor, there could be no way she could deny who she’d been with. “These are my friends, Shireen, Hot Pie and Pod.”

They each murmured hello while Jaqen nodded and then sat back down at the table. He reached out and took Arya’s hand. Her eyes immediately flew to his. What was he doing! He stroked her hand with his thumb. Everyone’s eyes were drawn to the obvious display of affection. Well, everyone’s except Pod’s. She was pretty sure his eyes were still on her chest.

Jaqen tilted his head playfully. “It has been a pleasure to meet the friends of a lovely girl. Please excuse us, our breakfast awaits.” He laughed as he motioned to their plates. “Besides, these old friends have much to discuss. A man wouldn’t be surprised if we stayed up all night talking until the dawn. Arya is the best conversationalist a man could ever wish to know.” He turned back to Arya and smirked devilishly.

Arya turned bright red and pulled her hand away from his. Oh my Gods! The words he had used were perfectly acceptable. It was the highly suggestive way that he’d _said_ them that made it appear as if he meant they would be doing something much more _intimate_ than just talking. Arya became extremely flustered which of course made his words seem all the more true."Uh, no. We won’t be talking all night, Jaqen. Don’t you remember I told you I have plans with Sandor tomorrow?”

Jaqen tossed his head as he put on a show for her friends. “Oh, I’m sure after a night spent _talking_ with me, you’ll be much too exhausted to leave your bed.”

Shireen’s eyes widened and her eyebrows shot up as high as they could go. “Oh! We’re so sorry! Yes, we’ll leave you to your breakfast now.” She grabbed Hot Pie’s arm and dragged him away. Pod just shook his head and then followed after them. They found a booth as far away from Arya and Jaqen as they could possibly get. Her friends tried hard not to look but they weren’t very successful at it.

Damn him! They both knew he wouldn’t be coming over for sex. He was just trying to get her in trouble with Sandor. He was hoping one of her friends wouldn’t be able to keep something this juicy to themselves. Shit! What was she going to do now?

. . . . .

The next morning, Arya sat up and groaned. She knew she should call Sandor and tell him about seeing Jaqen last night but then she’d have to explain the circumstances and that would cause even more problems. Maybe she should just keep her mouth shut. After she and Jaqen had finished their meal she’d tried to tell him her friends could give her a lift home but he’d insisted he wanted to drive her to her condo.

She realized he already must have known where she lived. He’d either followed her to the Tower Club from her condo or he’d hacked into her phone and he was tracking her through it. She knew he had a reason for it. He wasn’t a stalker. She also knew he wasn’t going to discuss it until he was ready. After all his playacting, he got really quiet and never said another word to her until he walked her into her building and told her goodnight at the concierge desk.

She finally forced herself out of bed and shuffled into the kitchen hoping for a cup of tea. Sansa was sitting at the table looking fresh and cheerful as a Disney princess. Arya never understood how anyone could roll out of bed looking that way. Arya knew she looked like she’d just crawled through the sewers or had been kidnapped and dragged around the Seven Kingdoms for months without a bath like one of her ancestors from long ago.

She made some tea and then flung herself down at the table. Sansa glanced up at her. “You look awful! You seem like you had a rough night.”

Arya just stared at her and then sighed. She decided she would let that comment pass. It was just too early in the morning to get into a fight. She was sure what Sansa really meant to say was “thank you for taking care of Ramsay Bolton”. Of course, she didn’t know she’d had a little talk with him. She smiled to herself at the memory.

“You know, you look quite frightening when you smile like that.” Sansa sniffed.

Arya smiled even bigger.

“Cut it out!

Arya covered her mouth with her hand. “Did you have a nice time at the dinner party last night?”

Sansa blushed a pretty shade of crimson. She stood up and fairly twirled around the kitchen. Arya expected little blue birds and mice to show up and burst into song any minute.

“Oh, Arya! Tyrion Lannister was at the party. We talked for hours! He is the most amusing man imaginable. He . . . he is very dear.”

Arya had thought Tyrion was witty when she met him at the pub. She liked the way he'd treated Sansa with respect. When Arya was little and her father was still alive, she’d thought most men were gentlemen. Now that she was older and wiser she realized how rare gentlemen really were. She thought she’d like to get to know Tyrion better.

Sansa smiled dreamily. "Tyrion asked me to a ball.”

“A ball?” Arya laughed. “You had better shine your glass slippers!”

“Ha, ha. His father and his sister, Cersei, are going to host a dinner and a ball for Daenerys Targaryen when she comes for a state visit.”

“Is she coming here to King’s Landing or to Casterly Rock?”

“The event is being held at the Baratheon estate.”

Arya realized Sandor wasn’t going to have much time for her. “I thought you didn’t like her very much.” Arya mused.

Sansa raised her eyebrow. “Let’s just say I like her a lot better now that she’s not with Jon and is back in Mereen.”

. . . . .

Sandor was at Yoren’s Gym spotting for Yoren as he bench pressed weights. He wasn’t going to do any lifts because his elbow was still a little sore. He thought he might do some leg work since Arya had told him how much she was attracted to his thighs. He was feeling really good now that the combatives training was over. He knew that if he ever came into contact with H’ghar again he wouldn’t be at work and he wouldn’t have to restrain himself.

He had just finished some lunges when Payne suddenly appeared. Payne threw him a towel. He wiped the sweat off his brow but forgot about his nose until he’d accidentally brushed against it. Damn, it still hurt. Not only that, he wasn’t looking like his usual gorgeous self. He bet he could frighten small children until they screamed and ran away from him in terror if he so much as looked at them. He chuckled to himself.

Payne looked him over. “What happened to you?”

Sandor threw his sweaty towel at Payne’s head. “Let’s just say it might be best to avoid red-haired tenth degree black belts if at all possible.”

“Oh.” Payne’s face became somber. “I feel for you, man.”

Sandor barked out a laugh. “Don’t worry, kid. I’m going to live.”

“No, I meant about Arya.”

The smile fell from Sandor’s face. He got very still. His gut seemed to know immediately what was wrong. He stood up straight, clenched his fists and braced himself for the blow. “What do you mean?”

Payne took a step backwards. “Uh, nothing. Never mind.” Pod was shocked Clegane could move so fast. Before he knew what was happening, Clegane had shoved him up against the wall by his neck and was breathing like a great big animal into his face. “Take it easy, Mr. Clegane. I wouldn’t have said anything but I thought you already knew.”

Sandor hastily released the kid and took a step back. It wasn’t Payne’s fault. He wasn’t too bright but he wasn’t mean-spirited either. Sandor turned away. He didn’t want anyone to see him. When he regained his composure he asked again. “Tell me about Arya and her red-haired friend.”

Payne felt really bad. He wanted to tell Clegane to ask Arya but he was standing between himself and the door and he didn’t want to risk making him mad again. “It was nothing really. Shireen, Hot Pie and I saw her last night at the IHOP having breakfast with a red-haired man.”

Sandor turned back to see if he could tell if Payne was telling the truth. “That’s it?”

“Arya said he was an old friend. He introduced himself as Jaqen something or other. He even bowed to Shireen. He had a funny way of speaking; I guess he’s not Westerosi.” Payne shrugged.

“What made you think they were together? Were they making out or something?”

“No, of course not! I just assumed since your face is black and blue and by what you’d just said that you’d had a fight over Arya or something.”

“Well, did you join them for breakfast? What happened?”

Pod looked away and tried to avoid Sandor’s eyes. “They’d just been served when we arrived so her, uh, friend asked if we would excuse them while they had their meal and he said they had a lot of catching up to do.”

Sandor could tell that there was more to it than that but maybe it was just a feeling Payne had that he found hard to explain. “Did they leave together?”

“Uh, yeah, they did.”

. . . . .

Arya was at Shireen’s and they’d just spent some time swimming in her pool. It was much nicer when Joffrey wasn’t around. After they’d dried off in the sun, they sat down at a little wrought iron bistro table in the shade and sipped on some lemonade. Arya was afraid that Shireen thought she was a terrible person. She’d been acting funny ever since she’d arrived. She had wanted to ask her advice about Sandor but she was embarrassed and wasn’t sure she’d want to help her.

Arya took a deep breath. “Alright Shireen, here’s the deal. I was not cheating on Sandor. I was not on a date with Jaqen.”

Shireen leaned forward, “Okaaaay . . . so what exactly was going on?”

Shit! Arya decided to give her the condensed version. “My stupid sister, Sansa, got herself involved with Ramsay Bolton.” She waited to see if Shireen even knew who he was.

Shireen looked horrified. “Oh, No!”

“You’ve heard of him, I see. Well, when she tried to dump him he locked them together in a room and tried to . . . hurt her.”

Shireen set down her glass. “Oh! That’s terrible. Is she alright?”

“Yes, she got away. Anyway, I got the bright idea to follow Ramsay and . . . see if he could be . . . _persuaded_ to leave her alone. I got into a little trouble and my ex-boyfriend, Jaqen, just happened to be at the Tower Club and when he saw I was in trouble he helped me. Apparently, he and Sandor have sort of butted heads and he said all that crap to you all to get me in trouble. I don’t know what to do. Should I tell Sandor about what happened last night or should I just keep quiet and hope everything will blow over?”

Shireen put her head into her hands and started shaking her head back and forth. “Oh, Arya. You mean to tell me you tried to beat up Ramsay Bolton?”

Arya protested. “What! No, that’s not what I said.”

Shireen put her hands down and smiled. “Arya, tell the truth.”

Arya squirmed. Shireen got up and put her arm around her shoulders and gave her a hug. Arya felt like a creep. She knew Shireen thought she was sweet or something else equally inaccurate.

“Listen, Arya. You have to tell Sandor. He is more than likely to find out and even if he doesn’t, you’ll know it and it will affect the trust you have with each other.”

Arya was afraid she’d tell her to tattle on herself. “But what if he doesn’t understand and he gets really mad and he dumps me?” Arya got a little choked up. “Did I tell you he fed me chocolate-covered strawberries?”

“Oh, Arya.” Shireen got up and threw her arms around her again.

. . . . .

Arya sat waiting on the sofa for Sandor. She was frowning and kept sighing over and over again. Sansa put down her book and glanced over at her. “What’s wrong with you? You look like you’re about to be executed.”

Arya sucked in her breath. She wondered if Sansa had psychic abilities. There was a knock at the door. Arya about jumped out of her skin. She closed her eyes but she opened them again when she heard Sansa get up from her chair to answer it. Shit! She wasn’t ready.

Sandor walked in and stood before her. Arya looked up at him from the sofa. “I have something to tell you.” She almost whispered. She’d never seen Sandor look so serious. Could he have found out already?

Sandor looked down at her and wanted to tell her she didn’t have to say anything. As long as she still wanted him, he would forgive whatever she had done but he must have had too much pride because the words wouldn't come out. “What is it, Girl?”

“Your nose is black and blue.”

“Well, your nose is sunburned.”

Arya leapt off the couch and into his arms. “Oh, Sandor!” Their lips connected and they became lost in each other.

“Alrighty then, I guess you two need a little privacy. I’ll just step out for a little while.” Sansa grabbed her bag and her phone and slipped out the door. Love was so strange. It had the power to turn two seriously scary people into tender-hearted fools.

Arya confessed all her transgressions and since they did not involve anything happening between Arya and her old flame, Sandor duly forgave her before carrying her into the bedroom.


	16. Miss Popularity

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the Lovely Flower

Sandor placed Arya on the bed and proceeded to kiss her thoroughly. She was stupid and liked to think she was some kind of badass. He would have to talk to her later about her foolish behavior. Not right now, though. He was busy taking the pleasure she was offering him. Her arms were grasped tightly around his biceps as she rolled her hips to meet his. He ground his already stiffening manhood against her pubic bone and lusted after her wet heat.

Oh, he was so powerful and massive. His body completely covered hers. He hadn’t said much after she’d told him what happened. He just seemed like his blood was hot and he wanted to get it on. His tongue was plundering her mouth and all she wanted was more. She wanted to give herself up to him and let him have his way with her. Gods, he was so much bigger than her. He could have easily crushed her but he was careful to keep his weight on his arms. He wasn’t the kind of man who wanted to punish. He was the kind of man that wanted to pleasure.

His hand found her breast and he rolled her tit until she was gasping. He pulled her shirt up and she lifted her arms until he’d removed it and flung it across the room. He sat up and straddled her waist and unclasped her bra and groaned with desire as her breasts bounced free. He couldn’t believe she was his. Her beautiful neck arched backwards as she bit her lip and reached for his hands and brought them to her luscious, firm, round breasts. Gods, did he ever want to do things to her. She’d sparked something inside of him from the very beginning and although he hated fire he craved what she had ignited within him.

After Sandor had fondled her breasts properly and had sucked them and teased them, he kissed and tongued his way down her body and then he stood up and took hold of her ankles and yanked her down to the foot of bed. Arya flushed from excitement as he fairly tore her off her shorts and went down on her like a starving man presented with a feast.

Jaqen had been a good lover but he could never give up his self-control and let himself go completely. The one time she’d been with Gendry, she’d taken control and the whole thing had been over in less than five minutes but Sandor, Sandor was different. He let himself feel without restraint or reservation. At first he had been too intense but he’d sensed her distress and so he’d slowed and reassured her. He’d murmured soft endearments and had comforted her as he’d worked her at a much slower pace.

Soon a warmth began low down in her belly and Arya moaned for more. Sandor obliged her but took his time and paid attention to her body and slowly but surely brought Arya higher and higher as she gasped and moaned. She became more vocal and called on him for more until the heat coiled in inside of her had become unbearable.

Sandor could feel Arya’s legs shake. She called his name over and over and it spurred him on anew as he fervently worshipped her slick womanhood. Finally, he curled his fingers and massaged her sweet spot again and again. Arya began to keen uncontrollably and then she came apart beautifully for him.

Sandor climbed back onto the bed and pulled Arya into his arms. He stroked her hair and gave her a couple of gentle little kisses. The feelings he had for her made his heart want to burst. He’d never felt this way about anyone before. He loved her bravado and her intelligence. He loved her body and the way she responded to him. He loved the way she touched him and treated him as though she thought he was wonderful. It hurt him that she had lost so much but he was proud that she was so courageous.

He understood her need to protect her sister and her friends but he was beginning to see a pattern. If she perceived that someone needed to be confronted, she would jump in without really thinking things through. She was a real danger to herself. One day she was going to get herself in over her head and really get hurt or worse. He was sure she had downplayed what had happened with Ramsay Bolton. It worried him. He couldn’t be with her twenty-four hours a day. If anything were to happen to her . . . he would not be able to bear it.

Arya sighed with happiness. She opened her eyes and smiled at him with blissful contentment. Sandor loved her smile. He had the urge to pleasure her all over again. There was no place he’d rather be than with her. He leaned over and traced her pouty lips with his thumb and then he kissed her tenderly.

. . . . .

Arya and Sandor returned later that evening after dinner. Arya was surprised to find Sansa wasn’t home. She texted her and found that Margaery and Jeyne had stopped by with some spur of the moment plans to go to the intra-city kickboxing tournament. She wondered if Margaery and Jeyne had wanted to see Gendry all dirty and sweaty. She hoped someone had warned Sansa that kickboxing wasn’t for the faint-hearted. Although, when Arya really thought about it, Sansa might not be fond of blood and gore but she was actually pretty tough.

Arya went into her bedroom and assumed Sandor had followed her but when she turned to say something to him but he wasn’t there. She walked back out into the living room and found Sandor standing beside the bookcase. Was he looking for a book to read? “What are you doing?”

He glanced up at her. “I was just checking out some of your medieval history books.”

Arya put her hands on her hips. “Oh, if you’d prefer to spend the rest of the evening with a good book instead of with me, that can be arranged.”

The look on Sandor’s face was priceless. He started fumbling for words. “Uh, no, no, uh, I was just looking; I didn’t mean anything by it.”

“No, go ahead and choose a book. I have some good ones on the Targaryens.” She walked over to Sandor and turned to the bookcase and pulled out a heavy tome and handed it to him.

“Arya.”

“No, really. There’s some pretty interesting things in there about Visenya." She took the book away from him and flipped it open to the right chapter and handed it back to him. He glanced down at it and was instantly fascinated by the illustrations. Arya reached up for the candy dish on the upper shelf and grabbed a Tootsie-Pop. 

Sandor stood while searching through the book while Arya unwrapped the candy. She sucked on it a minute or two and then pulled it out of her mouth with a loud pop. He looked up at the sound. She smiled. “Did you find anything interesting, Sandor?” She said coyly. She then proceeded to slowly lick and then suck the Tootsie-Pop in an extremely lewd and suggestive manner. Sandor’s eyes almost popped out of his head. “Mmm, Mmm, this Tootsie-Pop is just delicious.” She slurped on it noisily.

“Fuck reading.” Sandor shoved the book back into the bookcase. “Do you have any idea how bad you are?” He hissed.

She widened her eyes. “Whatever do you mean? I can’t help it I really enjoy sucking on yummy, extra-large, hard, scrumptious . . .”

Sandor scooped her up and threw her over his shoulder and made haste to the bedroom.

. . . . .

Sandor was sitting in Arya’s bed with his back against the headboard. He had his arm around Arya while her head rested on his chest. He felt wonderful after having his lollypop licked. Unfortunately, he still didn’t know how many licks it takes to get to the center of his Tootsie-Pop. He had understandably lost count somewhere along the way.

Sandor reached for Arya’s hand. “Arya.”

“Hmm?”

“I know no one wants to be lectured or told what to do but . . .” He began.

“You’re about to lecture me and tell me what to do?”

“Alright, let me put it this way, that stunt you pulled with Ramsay Bolton was . . .”

“Stupid?” She supplied. He could feel her body tense under his arm.

He tried to think of a way to get her to listen to him without making her angry. He finally had an idea. He hoped she would understand. “It was inconsiderate.”

She sat up and looked at him. “What do you mean?”

He looked into her grey eyes. “It was inconsiderate because if something happened to you, what do you think that would do to me?”

Arya’s dark brows came together. “Oh." She rested her head on his chest again. “Sandor?”

“What?”

“You are a lot smarter than you look.”

Sandor frowned. “There's something else, you know things are going to get weird when people find out we’re dating. Have you thought about that?”

Arya didn’t care about what other people thought. She sat up again. “Would you rather no one knew?”

Sandor had been looking at their intertwined fingers but he quickly looked into her eyes. “Is that what you want? Do you want to keep it a secret?”

“No, of course not but I’m worried that certain people might give you a hard time.”

Sandor barked out a laugh. “Yeah, you might say that's a pretty big possibility.”

“What about at work, would you get in trouble with Cersei?”

“Fuck no. Cersei and Tywin Lannister would think it was hilarious. They’re not very fond of your family, you know.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

“Cersei’s not really so bad to work for. It’s Joff that’s the worst. Tommen and Myrcella are alright it’s just that they get around a lot more. Lots of late nights mean lots of lost sleep. At least Cersei goes to bed early and I can get some rest too.” Sandor sighed. “They are finally starting to realize Joff’s not in any imminent danger so I was hoping to get reassigned to Cersei again but now I’m not so sure that’s going to happen.”

“Oh, why not?”

“Well, after Mandon Moore got fired when he failed to protect Joff, she went and hired a new security team member.”

Arya thought for a minute. “Oh, shouldn’t the head of security have hired him?”

Sandor nodded. “Yeah, it’s part of the Commander’s job but apparently, some pretty man caught her eye and she hired him yesterday. She’s probably getting cozy with him right now.”

Arya wrinkled her nose. “Aw, Sandor, you mean you’re sad you might not be Cersei’s pretty man any longer?” Arya teased.

“Shut up. She doesn’t call him the pretty man anyway. She calls him the handsome man.”

Arya swung her leg over him and straddled Sandor’s waist. “Don’t worry, Sandor. You’re still my pretty man.”

He growled but she smiled at him so sweetly he smiled back.

Arya kissed the tip of Sandor’s nose. “I hear Daenerys Targaryen will be a guest at the Red Keep.”

“Yeah, that’s going to be a nightmare. Luckily, it’s for one night only.”

“Sandor?”

“Yes, Girl?”

She batted her eyelashes innocently. “All this talking is making me hungry. Do you think I could have another Tootsie-Pop?”

. . . . .

A few days later, Arya awoke from a dream where someone was making some delicious bacon. It took her a minute or two before she realized it was no dream. Arya decided she better get up and stake a claim on the bacon before Sansa ate it all. She wouldn’t put it past her to scarf up every last bit of it.

“Ah-hah, I knew you would be after my bacon!” Sansa exclaimed when Arya stumbled into the kitchen.

Sansa tried to attack her by opening and closing the tongs as if they were going to bite her so Arya had to defend herself with a fork. The both started laughing until the toaster signaled the toast was ready by ejecting both slices out and up into the air before they landed on the counter. There was something seriously wrong with Sansa’s toaster.

They sat down to eat the scrambled eggs, bacon and the errant toast. “Arya, guess what?”

“You should have made more bacon?”

“No silly. We’ve been invited to Tyrion Lannister’s home for dinner this weekend.”

“What? The both of us? Isn’t he smart enough to try and get you alone?” Arya teased.

“Apparently not.” Sansa answered ruefully.

Arya started laughing so hard she knocked over her orange juice.

. . . . .

Gendry was having an exhibition of his modern art sculptures. Arya knew she had been neglecting him. She’d missed his kickboxing tournament too. Sansa told her all about how well he fought. She had surprised Arya with how much she’d liked it. She’s even asked Arya if she could help her to learn to kickbox. Arya had told her she’d be happy to get her started.

Gendry’s exhibition was going to be in a trendy gallery on Steel Street in an area of Flea Bottom that had undergone urban renewal. He had warned her it was still dangerous there after dark. Arya was over at Shireen’s while they tried to decide what to wear. They wanted to look chic and artsy for Gendry. They didn’t want to embarrass him. They’d finally decided on some flowing dresses and some clunky jewelry.

As they walked into the foyer, Mr. Seaworth came in the front door and gave them a wolf-whistle. “Where are you girls headed? A 1960’s costume party?” He gave them the peace sign. “Groovy, Baby.” He laughed and then left to meet with Mr. Baratheon. Shireen and Arya stared at each other and then looked at themselves in the large gilt hall mirror. They both turned around and headed back to Shireen’s closet to try again.

Finally, Shireen called her cousin, Myrcella Baratheon. She’d been studying fashion in Dorne and was home visiting her family. She told them to just grab a bunch of different clothes and come on over. She’d help them figure it out.

When they arrived at the Red Keep, Arya looked around for Sandor but didn’t see him anywhere. She did see a very attractive suntanned, bearded, blonde-haired man that passed them in the hall. She wondered if he was the handsome man. He seemed familiar to Arya. He reminded her of someone. Arya couldn’t put her finger on it. She still stood staring down the empty hallway where he’d been as she pondered what it was about him that was ringing a bell with her.

Myrcella noticed how Arya had looked at the man. “He is kind of dreamy, isn’t he?”

Arya jumped. “Uh, yeah.”

“He’s my mother’s new security man. His name is Rolf.”

Arya turned to look at Myrcella. “There’s something about him . . .”

Myrcella laughed. “He reminds you of someone, does he?”

Arya nodded. “Yes, he does.”

“Thor.”

Arya’s brows came together. “Thor?”

“You know, the Marvel Superhero. You probably just didn’t recognize him without his hammer.”

Arya and Shireen were ready to go to the exhibition and were waiting by the door. Myrcella had forgotten her phone and ran back upstairs to get it when Joffrey walked in. He stopped short when he caught sight of Arya. Arya was shocked. Ramsay had really done a number on him. His face was purple-black with bruises which included some festive greenish yellow highlights.

He narrowed his beady little eyes. “What are you doing here?”

“It’s nice to see you too, Joffrey.” Arya grinned.

Sandor came in the door next. He stopped when he saw Arya and Shireen and gave the slightest shake of his head.

“Clegane.” Joff said petulantly as he pointed to Arya. “I believe she is on the persona non grata list. How did she get in? See her out, immediately.”

“Joff, stop being a dick!” Myrcella called out as she came down the stairs. “I can have over anyone I want.” She flounced past him. “So what if she helped you to have a nice swim. It was a hot day. Maybe you needed to cool off.”

Joff cursed and stomped off down the hallway.

As Arya passed by Sandor, he looked down at her from his great height and winked.

They took Myrcella’s limo to Flea Bottom. The obnoxious jerk, Meryn Trant, drove them. Arya had rather unpleasant memories of him from when she was younger and had visited the Red Keep. She remembered sassing him more than once. He probably didn’t remember her at all. The second security man was youngish with wavy brown hair and an easy laugh.

The first thing Arya noticed was that there was quite a crowd. She was glad Gendry was finding success. She gave him a big hug. While Arya was introducing him to Myrcella, Hot Pie appeared and gave Shireen a kiss on her cheek. Arya’s mouth fell open. She turned to stare at Shireen. She shrugged her shoulders but she was blushing furiously. Seven Hells! Arya had an unsettling thought. Was it possible that Sandor was smarter than her? He’d seen the connection between Shireen and Hot Pie when she hadn’t.

Pod arrived and shook his head sadly at Arya.

“What’s wrong?” Arya wondered what she’d done now.

“Nothing.” He sighed dramatically. “I was just hoping you’d be wearing the black bustier you had on the last time I saw you.”

Arya punched his arm. “Shut up, Pod!”

Gendry took them around and showed them his artwork. She’d seen some of it before but she was always surprised at how inticately detailed and finely wrought his creations were. Gendry really was a master craftsman but it was more than that. His artwork was filled with hidden abstract concepts. The fun was in trying to figure out what they were.

Everything was lovely until the very end. The exhibition had wound down and they’d all decided they'd have a late dinner together. Everyone else was out at the limo when Arya excused herself a moment and went back inside to put a hold on one of Gendry’s sculptures. It was called Florian and Jonquil and it was a representation of two lovers in flower form twisted around one another. She wanted to buy it for Sansa. After she’d made the purchase, she walked down a hallway to the side door where the limo was parked and she ran right into Shireen’s old buddy, Hyle.

Apparently, he’d seen Arya earlier and was waiting for her because he had one of Gendry’s iron sculptures and had hit her with it. Arya had thrown up her arm in self-defense at the last second and he’d hit her forearm. She couldn’t deny she’d been caught off guard and it had hurt pretty badly.

Arya took her fighting stance and prepared to face off but suddenly, Myrcella’s younger security man came in the side door and saw what was happening. He rushed Hyle and he went down like a ton of bricks. He didn't put up much of a fight but the security guard sat on top of Hyle’s chest and gave him some pretty good punches to his face for good measure. He then easily secured Hyle with his handcuffs.

The guard stood up and gave the creep a solid kick to his side and then turned to Arya, “I’m Arys Oakheart. Are you alright, Ms. Stark?”

Shit! The way things were going, she wasn’t about to win any popularity contests anytime soon. She couldn’t wait for Sandor to rub it in.


	17. Danger

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the Lovely Flower

Luckily, Arya’s arm wasn’t broken. It was just bruised and extremely sore. She decided to wait to tell Sandor until the next time she saw him. She didn’t see why Meryn Trant or Arys Oakheart would mention the incident to him. They didn’t even know she and Sandor knew each other. She wasn’t in the mood to hear him tell her it was her own fault. She realized she wasn’t making herself very popular with a lot of people and she’d been foolish not to expect some retribution. She wasn’t too worried about Joff but Ramsay Bolton might become a real problem. It probably wouldn’t be that difficult for him to figure out who she was.

She did have Hyle Hunt arrested. He tried to tell the police Arya started it but the security cameras at the art gallery showed his attack on her was completely unprovoked. She already knew he had no evidence she’d fought him in the restroom at the nightclub. Security cameras aren’t allowed in restrooms. Besides, none of the other men who had participated in the fight had wanted to come forward that evening as an eye witness after Sandor had finished having words with them.

She wasn’t able to go back to work right away and at first it was great to have Sansa fuss over her. Then she spent a day on her own after Sansa went to work and Arya had about all the YouTube videos and daytime television that she could stand. She had to get some fresh air. She decided she’d pick up some of Sansa's favorite lemon cakes for dessert. She stepped out of the elevator and waved to Mr. Harwin at the front desk and then winced in pain.

“Oh my goodness! What happened?” Harwin exclaimed.

Arya glanced down at her arm. It did look rather gruesome. She turned back to the desk. She pulled out her phone and found the photo of Ramsay that she’d used to identify him at the Tower Club. “Mr. Harwin, if you see this man around here, please let me or Sansa know right away.”

He gawked at the photo. “Did he do that to you, Ms. Arya?”

“No, but he’s not a very nice man, if you get my meaning. He's not fond of either of us but he might try to get to Sansa more than me.”

Harwin stood up straight. “He won’t get by me.” He declared. “Who is he?”

She told Harwin his name and he had Arya send the photo to his phone. “I’ll alert building security, the doormen and the other concierge. We’ll all be on the job; you will be completely protected here.”

Arya killed a little time by looking into a couple of shops as she made her way to the bakery. Everyone stared at her arm and then quickly looked away. Arya sighed. It made her feel embarrassed which was strange since she actually hadn’t done anything wrong. Arya picked up the cakes. She wasn’t about to wear long sleeves to put other people at ease. It was the nearly the end of July and way too warm for that.

She walked into the condo and went to the kitchen to put the box from the bakery on the counter and found Jaqen sitting at the table sipping a cup of tea. Shit! Obviously, Harwin had completely overestimated his ability to offer her protection. Well, to be fair, she hadn’t told him about Jaqen and anyway, no one could prevent _him_ from doing exactly as he pleased.

“What are you doing here?”

“A lovely girl has been injured.”

Arya sat down at the table and opened the box. Jaqen got up and made her a cup of tea and sat back down across from her. She generously offered him a lemon cake and he graciously accepted. She wondered how he knew she had been hurt. She thought about asking him but he probably wouldn’t answer her. She had noticed before that he usually let her do all the talking and she wondered what would happen if she kept her mouth closed for a change. Well, except for the cake; she was certainly going to open her mouth for that.

He regarded her with his pale blue eyes. “A man understands a girl likes to kickbox now.”

“Uh-huh.”

“A man wonders if a girl should continue her martial arts training instead.”

Arya swallowed her mouthful of cake. He was obviously trying to goad her. She was not going to let him push her buttons.

“If a girl is going to persist in risky behaviors, perhaps she needs further instruction on how to defend herself.” He eyes flicked over her. “At the rate a girl is going she will be dead soon.”

Arya could feel her face get warm. He had some nerve breaking into her condo to insult her. A normal man might show her some sympathy but she knew damn well Jaqen did not have a sympathetic bone in his entire body. She wondered what she’d ever seen in him.

“A girl must always be on her guard; especially now.”

Her eyes widened. Was he talking about Hyle and Ramsay or did he mean something else? Was he trying to tell her she was in danger from the Faceless Men? Surely, he would have told her that, wouldn’t he? “Jaqen?”

“No, it is not the Faceless that a girl needs to worry about.” He said almost angrily.

“Then who?”

“There are many bad men in this unfortunate city. Some of the worst are the Lannisters.”

“The Lannisters?” It was no secret that Tywin Lannister was an extremely ruthless businessman but why would he be a danger to her? Cersei was no saint either but why would they want to . . . surely, they weren’t blaming her and Sansa for what had happened to Joff at the hands of Ramsay Bolton? Wait. No, that couldn’t be it. Joff was attacked on the night of the Unmasking and Jaqen was already in King’s Landing before it even happened.

“Take for example, Tyrion Lannister.”

Arya’s eyebrows shot up. “Tyrion!” What was he talking about? She’d never heard anything even remotely bad about him.

Jaqen shook his head. “Tyrion Lannister is _not_ what he seems.”

Shit! Sansa struck out again. She’d chosen three losers in a row.

Jaqen stood. “A man thanks a lovely girl for the lemon cake. A man will have to go on a diet if he spends much more time with you.” He gave her the slightest smile. “A man must leave now. Your sister will be home any minute.”

She followed him into the living room and before she knew what he was about to do, he’d grasped her by her upper arms and spun her around and pushed her up against the front door. His body was pressed tightly to hers and his lips were a mere whisper from her ear. “A girl must keep her eyes open and her wits about her.” Arya was too stunned to resist. “Sometimes danger is much, much closer than we realize. Sometimes danger can come from a source one would never expect.” He rested his head alongside hers. “For instance, how well does a girl really know her dog?”

Arya pushed back against him and he let her go. “No, Jaqen.” She ground out furiously. “How dare you! Get the fuck out!”

Jaqen was not the least bit perturbed by her anger. He nodded and his eyes never left her face. She realized he was serious. Shit! Shit! Shit!

. . . . .

Arya was lying on her bed after dinner. She’d bitten poor Sansa’s head off for no good reason and almost made her cry. She wanted to punch something but instead she was blasting some Metallica into her ears. Fuck Jaqen H’ghar! He could lie as easily as he could breathe. Why had she let him get to her? She wanted to believe he was just playing mind tricks with her but . . . he’d looked worried. Now she was worried about Sansa too. They were supposed to go to Tyrion’s for dinner in a couple of days. She wondered if she could talk Sansa out of it.

Sansa was dejectedly curled up on the sofa cuddled up in her blankie talking on her phone with Margaery while trying to half-way watch a lame movie on TV when she heard someone knocking insistently at the door.

“It’s Sandor Clegane.”

Sansa got up to let him in. He burst into the room. “Where’s Arya?”

“She’s in her room but I’m warning you, she’d not in a good mood!” She called after him as he rushed down the hallway.

Arya about jumped out of her skin when she heard someone beating on her bedroom door. She turned off the heavy metal and listened.

“It’s Sandor! Open the fucking door!”

Arya sighed. Apparently, he’d found out about her being attacked by Hyle. My Gods, was everyone in the city a blabbermouth? She opened the door and Sandor pulled her into his arms.

“Oh, Arya! Are you alright? Where are you hurt?” Sandor desperately demanded.

She wanted to be mad at him for banging on her door and barging in on her and causing a fuss but somehow her anger dissolved and all she wanted was to be held against his big, warm chest. After a minute or two he stepped back and lifted her injured arm. She hissed in pain.

“I’m so sorry, Girl.” Sandor walked her to the bed and had her sit down. He knelt before her. “Let me see it again. Are you in pain? How bad are you hurt?”

Arya turned her arm around so he could look at it. “I’m fine. It’s not broken.” She answered him softly.

She glanced from her arm to find him looking at her with complete and utter tenderness. “Oh, Girl.” He leaned forward and kissed her gently. He slipped off his shoes and had her move over and climbed into bed beside her and held her carefully as he stroked her back.

She had to admit he was doing more for her than the painkiller she’d taken earlier. She felt guilty for not telling him right away. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you. I thought you would yell at me and rub it in.”

Sandor choked off a laugh. “I wouldn’t rub it in but I might yell at you later when you are feeling better.”

“I appreciate that, Sandor.” Arya nuzzled her face into his chest. “How did you find out, anyway?”

“I wish you’d told me yourself.” Sandor fretted. “I had to hear it from Joffrey! I overheard him tell his mother. It was disgusting how delighted he was that you had been hurt. I excused myself and immediately went to find Trant and Oakheart to get all the details. That stupid Trant acted like it was no big deal. He said he wasn’t paid to protect anyone except for the Baratheons. I could have knocked his teeth out but Oakheart calmed me down.”

“Yes, I was certainly glad to see Mr. Oakheart. I let my guard down and Hyle got the better of me.” Arya was forced to admit.

Oakheart said you were hit with a piece of metal.”

Arya laughed. “It was actually one of Gendry’s sculptures.”

“Arya.”

“Hmm?”

“This might be all my fault.”

“What? Why would you think that?”

Sandor didn’t answer right away. Arya propped herself up on her elbow and looked down into his sorrowful face.

“I roughed that creep up a little and threatened him after you all left the nightclub. I guess he thought it would be easier to take revenge on a woman than come after me.”

Arya sighed. “Sandor, I don’t think he actually came after me. I think he just went to the exhibition like everyone else and just happened to see me there. Besides, I don’t regret fighting him but I could have been smarter about the whole thing.”

Sandor spent the next hour murmuring sweet nothings and comforting Arya. From what Gendry had told her, she knew that it was probable that Sandor had committed acts of violence in the service of his employers over the years. She didn’t know why Jaqen thought that made him dangerous to her. It was quite funny really since Jaqen was a deadly assassin but he expected her to trust him. She knew in her heart that Sandor would never hurt her. It did worry her that Jaqen believed that Sandor was a danger to her. She wondered how he had become so badly misinformed. Eventually, Arya’s painkillers kicked in and she fell asleep in Sandor’s arms.

. . . . .

The next morning, Arya asked Sansa how well she really knew Tyrion. Sansa told her that she’d spoken to him many times while she was dating Joff and she’d played Cyvasse with him frequently. Arya had never heard of Cyvasse. Sansa explained it was a board game of warfare and strategy. She gave Sansa a sideways glance. Sometimes her sister really surprised her. Finally, she’d tried to use her arm as an excuse for them to cancel their dinner plans.

“First of all, it’s too late to cancel. The dinner is tomorrow. Second, why don’t you just tell me what’s wrong. I know your arm hurts but you don’t have any trouble stuffing your face when I make you dinner and I _know_ you don’t care what anyone thinks about your appearance.”

It wasn’t exactly true that she didn’t care about her appearance but it was true that she didn’t care about what Tyrion thought of her bruises.

Arya realized that Sansa was determined to go and would leave her at home if necessary. She decided it would be best to go with her so she could keep an eye on Tyrion. Sansa fussed and fussed over her dress and her hair until Arya had to strong arm her out of the condo and into the elevator. She would have fussed more but Arya pointed out how rude it was to make the limo driver wait. That quieted her down. Sansa hated to be rude or impolite. Septa Mordane had spent a lot of time drilling the importance of manners into Sansa’s poor brain. Fortunately, Arya was much too stubborn to listen to their Septa after the first time she tried to tell her anything.

Tyrion lived in a swanky penthouse apartment at the top of the Gold Tower. He greeted them warmly and Arya was introduced to his brother, Jaime. She remembered him from when she was younger. He had visited Winterfell and he had been very good with a sword. She’d vaguely remembered he’d had some kind of accident. He was sporting a prosthetic hand now.

It didn’t take long for Arya to realize that both brothers were keenly intelligent. They were also both perfectly well-mannered and didn’t make her feel funny about her bruises. They were actually pretty sympathetic. Jaime was shocked when he found out a friend of Tommen’s had injured Arya.

My goodness! Who knew art exhibitions could be so dangerous?” Tyrion teased. “I never would have guessed that Mr. Hunt did it in the gallery with an iron sculpture.”

Jaime chastised his brother. “That was not only insensitive but it was a terrible joke.”

Arya laughed until she was gasping for breath at his reference to the game, Clue. “It’s alright, Jaime. It was pretty funny.”

What Arya liked the most about the brothers was that they knew Westerosi history extremely well. Jaime even asked her how she liked being named after the mythical savior of Westeros, Arya Stark, the Bringer of Dawn. Everyone knew the story. It was a fairy tale similar to King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table. Tons of books had been written about the fictional Battle of Winterfell and how Arya had slain the Night King with her Valyrian steel dagger and saved the Realm of Men.

Sansa and Arya glanced at one another and then Arya turned to look into Jaime’s green eyes and gave him an enigmatic smile. “I’m proud to be named for such a woman.”

Tyrion patted Arya’s hand. “I don’t care what anyone else says, I choose to believe she was a real person and the tale is completely true.”

“Do you, now?” Arya mused.

Sansa interrupted. “Yes, as Starks, we are more than pleased to hear you say that.” She laughed.

By the end of the evening, Tyrion was holding Sansa’s hand as he made everyone laugh again and again with his witty stories. Arya hadn’t laughed so much in ages. On the ride back to their condo, Sansa was practically glowing. Arya was genuinely happy for her because unless she was completely mistaken, Tyrion was a very sweet man.

Arya couldn’t begin to guess why Jaqen had said those things about Tyrion. Was it possible he knew that Sansa had an interest in him and was trying to discourage it? She wondered again how he knew she had been injured. She supposed he could have seen her on the street while she was walking to the bakery but that would have left him very little time to get into her condo and make tea before she returned. Another possibility was that he had followed her to the gallery and had witnessed what had happened but if he did he’d never tried to help her. A third possibility was that someone had told him what had happened to her. She didn’t like the implications of that one bit.


	18. Worth the Wait

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the Lovely Flower

The day after the dinner with Tyrion and Jaime, Tyrion sent two tickets to the upcoming Targaryen ball for Arya and a companion. Sansa immediately flew into a panic. “Oh my Gods! What is Tyrion thinking? Men don’t know anything! The event was already at such a short notice it left everyone scrambling for something to wear. I was so lucky my stylist was able to get me my choice of a Dior gown. How are we ever going to get you a dress by next Saturday?” Sansa wailed.

Arya didn’t want to go to the ball. She could care less about social events but because Jaqen had made accusations against the Lannisters, she decided she shouldn’t let Sansa go by herself. She was pretty sure she trusted Tyrion but she was still nervous. She was upset she couldn’t invite Sandor because he would be working at the event. She didn’t understand why she needed a new dress. She was mad because Sansa wouldn’t just let her wear a dress that she already had.

“Honestly, Arya! Quit fussing! Do you want to go to the ball or not?” Sansa’s patience was wearing thin.

“I don’t know why I can’t wear my black dress.” Arya whined.

“You can’t wear a cocktail dress to a ball! It must be a floor-length gown! You will be representing the Stark family. Do you want everyone to think we’re just a bunch of uncouth country bumpkins from the backwoods?” Sansa hissed.

Arya was about to protest when an image popped into her head of the both of them wearing Daisy Duke short-shorts with rope belts and itsy-bitsy bikini tops and . . . and flip-flops to the ball. Instead of drinking Champaign they could smuggle in some moonshine. They could request that the orchestra leader play some hoe-down music and instead of waltzing, they could clap their hands and stomp their feet. Arya could bring her harmonica and Sansa could collect the silverware from the table and play the spoons. Arya began to snort with laughter in a very unladylike fashion.

Sansa eyed her suspiciously. “Are you sure you only took a blow to your arm and not your head?”

Arya couldn’t stop laughing.

Sansa ignored her and quickly called her stylist and her worst fears were realized. “She can’t get you a dress, it’s too late!”

Arya shrugged. “Why can’t we just go and buy a dress?”

Sansa sucked in her breath. “Are you insane! You can’t go to an event like this with an _off-the-rack_ dress! Either way, you’re so short you are going to have to have alterations and there is simply not enough time.”

Arya could tell that Sansa was about to lose it. A friend would have tried to talk her away from the edge but since she was her sister she gave her a little push instead. “Maybe you could call on your little blue birds and mice to make up a dress for me.”

“Ha-ha. Very funny. If I was really Cinderella I would . . . that’s it! We need a fairy godmother.”

Arya raised her eyebrows. “Uh, Cinderella, I think you may have been inhaling too many cleaning chemicals. There’s no such thing as a fairy godmother.”

Sansa sniffed. “Don’t be silly. Of course there is.” Sansa started texting furiously.

An hour later, Arya found herself at Margaery’s penthouse. It was tastefully decorated in blush pink and white with touches of golden rose prints interspersed in the throw pillows and drapes. She supposed that was because the Tyrell’s family sigil was a golden rose on a green field. They were waiting for Margaery’s grandmother to arrive before they sat down to a proper tea. Apparently, she was off visiting Tywin Lannister at the Red Keep. Arya had heard of Olenna Tyrell before. She was said to rule the Tyrell family with an iron fist.

While Sansa and Margaery were busy going on and on about the ball, Arya walked around the room and admired the art work. There were several stunning paintings. She liked the one with lights shining over the water and a starry night sky. She was pretty sure it was a Van Gogh. She also liked a set of bronze horses. She made her way to a grouping of framed photographs. She saw some family pictures and some of Margaery and her brother, Loras, as children. They were quite adorable.

Arya’s eyes were suddenly drawn to a black and white photo of a dark-haired woman wearing a black leather jumpsuit. The woman was incredibly fit and sexy and looked the epitome of a swinging 1960’s sex kitten. How strange! Arya picked up the framed photo for a closer look.

“Yes, that’s me.”

Arya turned to find a small elderly lady at her elbow. Arya looked from her to the photo and then back again in stunned silence.

Olenna Tyrell smiled softly. “I was quite the looker. Don’t waste your youth. Experience everything you can. Youth doesn’t last very long.”

Margaery introduced Arya to her grandmother and when the older woman greeted Sansa, Sansa actually curtsied. Mrs.Tyrell pursed her lips as if trying not to smile and then called for the tea to be served.

As they sipped their Earl Grey and nibbled daintily on little finger sandwiches, Mrs. Tyrell eyed Arya. “I hope you won’t be offended, dear, but I simply must ask you what happened to your arm.” 

Arya explained how she came to be injured.

“How extraordinary.”

They went on to talk about the ball and during the discussion Mrs. Tyrell mentioned that Joffrey was an imbecile and that Margaery must take extra-care to not let him offend anyone too important. Sansa and Arya both turned to stare at Margaery in shock. Margaery was going to the ball with Joff! Arya was sure Sansa was just as surprised as she was. Arya had assumed that Margaery was much too smart to give Joff the time of day much less _date_ him.

The Tyrell family matriarch noticed the uncomfortable silence. Arya didn’t think she missed much. She was as sharp as a tack. “Mr. Baratheon, while unpleasant, is going to be the head of a great family dynasty in the future. The interests of the Tyrells and the Baratheons would benefit greatly from such an alliance.”

Arya’s dark eyebrows shot up. Poor Margaery! Was her grandmother trying to force her into an arranged marriage? Did things like that still happen? She gazed at Margaery’s beauty and had no doubt she could get Joff if she really wanted him. Arya felt slightly ill.

Olenna Tyrell focused on Sansa next. “I hear you shall be attending the ball with Tyrion Lannister.”

Sansa blushed. “Yes, ma’am.”

“You could do worse. He’s got a pretty good head on his shoulders. He’s sharp and ambitious. He could use an intelligent and refined woman at his side.” She studied Sansa. “He’s much better than Ramsay Bolton.”

Sansa’s mouth fell open. She turned to stare at Margaery accusingly. Margaery must have told her grandmother Sansa’s business. Margaery shrugged and flashed her an apologetic smile.

Mrs. Tyrell continued, “He’s a degenerate. I couldn’t in good conscience recommend him to anyone.” She sipped her tea and then focused her laser-like gaze on Arya. “I heard he was recently attacked in a dark alley and his face looks as battered as Joffrey’s at present. He claims a gang of thugs tried to rob him but I heard it was a woman who took him down a peg or two.”

Arya tried to rule her face but she must not have been entirely successful because the clever old woman smiled at her. “You wouldn’t know anything about that, would you, Ms. Stark?”

Arya gave a slight shake of her head. Shit! What else could she possibly know?

“Margaery tells me that you have need of a gown and a seamstress."

“Yes ma’am, I do.”

The grand dame waved her hand airily. “I will inform Chanel. Think nothing more of it. It’s done.”

Arya found herself ridiculously double-checking Olenna Tyrell’s hand for a magic wand.

After the tea, Sansa and Arya rode down the elevator from the penthouse with one of Mrs. Tyrell’s security officers. Arya tried to look anywhere besides at her sister.

It wasn’t until they were seated in the back of the Tyrell limo that Sansa turned to her. “Arya.”

“Hmm?”

“Did you kick Ramsay Bolton’s ass?”

Arya fidgeted. “Uh, no. What a crazy story, right?”

Sansa closed her eyes and shook her head before eventually turning back to Arya. “I’m not saying I’m not grateful but it wasn’t worth the risk. Don’t do anything like that again.”

Arya nodded. “Yes, ma’am.”

. . . . .

The next day was super hot so Shireen had invited Arya to come over for a swim after work. Arya only worked half a day because her arm was still tender. By mid-afternoon, Shireen, Arya and Myrcella were floating around in Shireen’s pool and blasting some loud tunes. Suddenly, without warning, Shireen’s Uncle Renly came out of nowhere and did a cannonball right amongst them and splashed the Seven Hells out of them all.

As soon as he came up for air they all began to yell at him. He responded by dumping each one of them off their floats as he laughed maniacally. They closed in on him until they had him cornered. Shireen made a dive for him and clung on and held him in place while Arya and Myrcella splashed him mercilessly.

“Hey, I hate to spoil your fun but if you don’t all want to be as red as lobsters for the ball you should probably get out of the sun about now.” Renly finally managed to speak.

They assumed it was a trick until they looked at each other. He was right. They left Renly to do laps around the pool while they went to sit in the shade of the patio where Myrcella confronted her two guards; the dashing Arys and the handsome Rolf. They were sitting at one of the tables playing cards.

Myrcella put her hands on her hips. “Hey you two! Some guards you are! You’re supposed to be watching out for me but instead you let me be the victim of a sneak attack.” She teased.

Arys threw down his cards and stood. “Oh, your Ladyship! My sincerest apologies!” He knelt down on one knee before Myrcella. “Please, please let me keep my head. You never know when I might be called upon to use my poor brain.”

The women laughed at him.

He stood up and pointed dramatically at Rolf. “It was all his doing; he forced me to play cards.”

“Hey!” Rolf objected.

“If you must have someone’s head, take his! I haven’t seen him use his brain once since he started working for you!” He smiled smugly at Rolf.

“Why you little . . .”

Myrcella interrupted him. “It’s alright, Rolf. You get to keep your head. None of us could bear to be deprived of your handsome face.”

Rolf blushed but what Arya really noticed was how he kept completely still and watched Arys somewhat like a cat; a big, handsome, dangerous cat.

The women sat down at another table and Arys and Rolf went back to playing cards.

“You will all have to see my gown before we leave for the gym.” Shireen said as she dried off with a towel.

“You’re wearing a gown to the gym?” Mycella joked. “It seems like a little much but . . .”

“Very funny. I meant my ball gown. I’m going with Hot Pie.” Shireen beamed.

Arya was delighted for the both of them.

“Who are you going with, Myrcella?” Shireen asked.

“Gendry.”

Arya did a double-take. Gendry! But Gendry was supposedly Robert Baratheons son. That would make Myrcella his half-sister. Of course, hardly anyone knew about that. She hoped Myrcella knew. Maybe Arya was getting ahead of herself. Maybe they were just going as friends.

“I don’t have a date.” Arya confessed.

Shireen clapped her hands. “Arya, are you going to the ball too?”

“Yeah, but it was really last minute decision. Sansa about had a heart attack over getting me a dress in time. My dress isn’t ready yet but I think Sansa’s will be ready by tomorrow.”

“Oh, is Dior?

Arya turned to look at Myrcella. “Yes, how did you know?”

“I’ve seen her in Dior before while she was still dating Joff. Tell us about your dress, Arya.”

Shireen interrupted. “Hey, it’s time to start getting ready to go watch the guys kickbox.”

They went to Yoren’s Gym for a little friendly kickboxing exhibition. Gendry did really well and won most of his rounds. Pod won some and lost some. Then the champ, Brienne Tarth mopped the floor with both of them and everyone else. She was a big, powerful woman and she probably could have beat them all blindfolded with one arm tied behind her back.

Afterwards, they rode in Myrcella’s limo to the Drowned God restaurant for dinner. Myrcella was smiling up a Gendry and he put his arm around her. Arya blinked rapidly. No one was paying any attention to them. Everyone was talking about Daenerys Targaryen and the ball except for Pod. He wasn’t saying much of anything.

Hot Pie noticed Pod's silence.“Hey, Pod. Are you going to the ball?”

Pod frowned. “No. I don’t have any fancy lady to escort.”

“Oh, I thought you might go with Brienne.” Hot Pie mused.

Pod made a face. “Uh, no. She’s my boss. She’s going with your Uncle Jaime.” He nodded towards Myrcella.

After they finished their meal everyone went outside to get into the limo except for Arya. She stopped Pod. “I’m going to the ball and I have an extra ticket.”

Pod looked at her with surprise. “What about Sandor?”

“He’s going to be working.”

“Oh.”

Arya prodded. “Well?”

He grinned. “I _suppose_ I could help you out and go with you.”

“Gee, thanks. Your generosity knows no bounds.” Arya laughed. “Can you get a tux in time?”

“I already have a tux.”

Arya nodded and started out the door to join their friends.

“Wait.” Pod called.

“What?”

“You’re not planning on wearing that black bustier again, are you?”

Arya whacked Pod on his arm and he laughed as he skipped over to the limo. She wasn't sure if this was the smartest idea she ever had. She hoped Sandor didn’t kill her.

. . . . .

Arya got a frantic phone call from Sansa the next afternoon. “They’ve lost my gown!”

“What? Calm down. They lost your ball gown?”

“I’m at Dior. They can’t find my gown!”

“I’m sure it’s there somewhere. Tell them to look again.”

“I already did! Oh, what am I going to do!”

“Take a deep breath. That’s right. Now you get back in there and tell them to find your gown or else!”

“Alright, Arya. I’ll call you back when they find it. Bye.”

They couldn’t find Sansa’s gown. She went off the deep end but they worked with her until they found something she liked. Luckily, Sansa was tall and had such a slender figure that they were able to get her into something that didn’t need a whole lot of alterations. Dior had to comp her a ludicrously expensive, fantastic, out of this world replacement.

When Sansa called to let Arya know everything was going to be alright. Arya told her to take the gown to Margaery’s. They had a security team there. Arya began to have a very bad feeling about Sansa’s missing gown. Sansa agreed and told her she would be at Margaery’s for awhile. She knew Sandor was coming over to visit Arya.

. . . . .

It was finally Sandor’s day off. Arya felt like she hadn’t seen him in years. Sandor was exhausted. They’d been running him ragged at work. They’d made everyone pitch in to get ready for the state visit. He hoped the next time he saw the white-haired Queen of Meereen they were in Meereen. Let someone else have fun completing all the preparations. Sandor felt badly because he hadn’t really planned anything for his date with Arya. He didn’t want her to think he was taking her for granted. He wouldn’t want her to take up with some other man.

Arya answered the door in her red kimono. He wasn’t positive but he thought she might be naked underneath. She smiled at him sweetly and beckoned him inside. “Come in, Sandor. I just got off work and I haven’t had my shower yet. Would you like to join me?”

Sandor flashed her a smile that could have lit up a stadium. He followed Arya into the bathroom and she pushed him up against the vanity. When she began to unbuckle his belt, Sandor began to tremble in anticipation. It felt like ages since he’d seen her as well. By the time she’d gotten him naked, he was beyond hot and bothered. She slipped off her kimono and a whimper escaped his lips. Arya couldn’t wait to get her hands all over him.

Arya had purchased some Bulgari shower gel. She never tried it before but she’d read it was just the ticket for lathering up hot, studly men. It smelled wonderful. She turned on the taps and together she and Sandor steamed up the bathroom. Arya couldn’t get enough of soaping up Sandor’s thick chest hair and his rock-hard abs. When Sandor lathered up Arya’s tits he couldn’t seem to make himself stop.

Arya’s hand slid down his belly and touched his throbbing manhood. Sandor threw back his head and gasped at the exquisite pleasure of her touch.

“Are you happy to see me, you great big stud?”

“Oh, yes! Yes!” Sandor moaned.

Arya pumped him and twisted her wrist just so over his head. Sandor began to hum. Arya pushed him back against the tiles. “Tell me what you need, Baby.”

“Ohhh, Girl.” Sandor’s body arched under her touch. “Please, Girl, take me into your mouth.”

The steamy water flowed over Arya’s nubile body as she sank down to her knees and blew Sandor’s mind.


	19. Time After Time

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the Lovely Flower

After their refreshing shower, Arya and Sandor made their way to Arya’s bed. Sandor had shown Arya some appreciation for what she’d done for him by reciprocating in kind and afterwards Sandor held Arya tightly in his arms. He stroked her soft skin while he thought about his feelings for her. They still hadn’t gone all the way and he respected that she wasn’t ready but he wondered at her hesitation. He didn’t know what else he could do to show her how much she meant to him. He wasn’t very good at expressing his feelings. He had never felt this way about anyone before.

“Arya."

She interrupted him. “Do you know the legend about Arya Stark, the Bringer of Dawn?”

Sandor was a little flustered. He’d just about spilled his guts but that obviously wasn’t where her head was at. He tried to focus on what she’d asked him. “Of course.”

“Do you know what became of her?”

“Arya Stark, the Bringer of Dawn, sailed off into the Sunset Sea and was never heard from again.” Sandor sighed. “It’s sort of romantic isn’t it?”

“Not exactly. She did eventually return, you know.”

“What?” Sandor looked at her quizzically. “I never heard that part of the story before.”

Arya laughed. “Where do you think the present-day Starks come from? Robb and his unborn child were slaughtered, Sansa never remarried, Bran was paralyzed and Rickon had been killed.”

Sandor was taken aback. “Why, I assume they had to come from some other branch of the family tree. No. That’s ridiculous. The entire thing is just an elaborate story. All those people never really existed.”

Arya nodded. “Oh, they existed alright. Arya came back and she is my many times great, great grandmother.”

“Really?” Sandor said with a grin. “I’m afraid your family filled your head full of fairy tales while you were a child. It’s a really entertaining story but they were pulling your leg.” He laughed. “I mean, you don’t really believe it do you?”

“No, Sandor. She came back and she had a child with her. Her son continued the line as the head of House Stark. There wasn’t any other branch of the family tree.”

He looked at her carefully. She was serious. He supposed it was what she had been taught. Maybe her family had actually believed it too. Who was he to tell her different if that was what she chose to believe? Arya leaned back and stretched. Sandor couldn’t keep his eyes off her breasts.

“You don’t believe me.” She said softly.

Sandor kissed her collarbone. “I believe you believe it.”

“She’s buried in the crypts below Winterfell, Sandor.”

Sandor blinked rapidly as he considered what she’d said. “If there is a woman interred there, she’s probably just another namesake like you, Arya.”

She gave him an amused smile. “No, you don’t understand, Sandor. All of them are there.”

“All of who?”

“All the Starks in the legend.”

Sandor’s mouth fell open. Arya kissed his forehead and got out of the bed. She slipped on her red kimono and walked to the bedroom door and turned back to look at him. Sandor admired her dark hair and her striking eyebrows and her pale skin. He’d known the legend of the Stark family his entire life. Everyone did. It was one of the most famous legends in all of Westeros. Could it really be possible that the woman standing before him was the Bringer of Dawn’s actual descendant?

“Do you remember the part of the story about Arya’s time in Braavos? Do you remember how some people believed a prophecy about her? Do you remember how the Faceless Men tried their best to ensnare her all those years ago?”

Sandor frowned.

“They’re very persistent. They hadn’t given up. They still wanted someone of her bloodline to join them until very recently.” She gave him a rueful smile and walked out of the door.

Sandor sat up. What the fuck! What was she talking about? Had she lost her mind? He tried to think. He knew she’d lived in Braavos. She’d admitted as much once but the second time he’d brought it up, she’d denied it. He hadn’t believed her that second time. The Faceless Men were in Braavos. They were the best trained, the most skilled and the most deadly assassins in the world. They were supposed to be practically invincible. They . . . a horrible, horrible thought forced its way into his consciousness. A Faceless Man would by sly, lightning quick and sinewy like a jaguar. A Faceless Man would be someone exactly like . . . Jaqen H’ghar. Fuck!

Sandor looked around for his boxers but remembered his clothes were still in the bathroom. As soon as Arya returned from there, he stomped past her and picked up his clothes and got dressed. He stormed back into her bedroom. She was casually sitting on her bed as calm as could be. It infuriated him. “I can’t believe you let me square off with a Faceless Man! You could have warned me!”

“No. You never told me he was training you. You never told me you were having an issue with him. You never even told me you’d seen him after the Unmasking. He told me after your training was over.”

Damn! She was right. He sat down beside her and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Girl." Sandor gazed into Arya’s narrowed eyes. He’d made her angry. “My Gods, how did you ever get yourself involved with someone like him?”

Arya moved back away from him. “I told you he was my teacher. I had no idea what he was until after I had graduated and we had started a relationship.” Arya began to subconsciously rub her stomach.

A light bulb went off in Sandor’s mind. He grabbed her wrist and took her hand. “Who really stabbed you?”

Arya wouldn’t look at him. She took a couple of shaky breaths.

“Oh my Gods!” Sandor exclaimed as he pulled Arya into his arms. “Oh, Arya. You should have told me.” He felt panicky but after she allowed him to hold her for several minutes he was finally able to regain his composure. He had to be strong for Arya. “Why did they want you dead?”

“I told you, they tried to get my to join them but when I couldn’t, they had no further use for me.”

Sandor tried to process what she was telling him. “So, where was H’ghar when they tried to kill you?”

“He claimed he didn’t know until afterwards.” Arya made a face. “I’m not sure I believe him.”

“That son-of-a-bitch!” Sandor shouted. “How dare he show up here? How dare he!” He had another frightening thought. “They haven’t come back to finish the job have they?”

Arya exhaled. “No. Everything was balanced. A life was promised to the Many-Faced God and a life was given.”

Sandor didn’t understand. “Whose life was given?”

Arya turned to look at him fiercely. “My would-be assassin’s life was given. I gave the Waif to the Many-Face God.”

Sandor stared into Arya’s dangerous grey eyes. The rumors about the Starks were not just myths. He could see the wolf within her. Arya was no helpless girl. If she was challenged, she would rise to that challenge and she would fight. Sandor felt a primal response to her deep down in his soul. She stirred his blood and made it sing. He wouldn’t be surprised if she really did have the Bringer of Dawn’s blood coursing through her veins.

Arya had been afraid of Sandor’s reaction when she told him. She realized she needn’t have been. He looked as if he was more than prepared to stand beside her. He leaned forward to kiss her but she reached up and put her hand over his mouth to stop him. “There’s more.”

Sandor pulled back reluctantly and studied her face. “Tell me.”

“I don’t understand why Jaqen is here. I mean it’s been two years. None of this makes any sense.”

Although Sandor did not like the sly, red-haired assassin, he could certainly understand why he couldn’t let Arya go. “Maybe it took him awhile to realize what a fool he’s been.”

Arya bit her bottom lip. “Why did he take a job at the Red Keep?”

Sandor snorted. “That’s easy. He wanted to have the opportunity to give me a hard time and make me think twice about whether you were worth it.”

Arya raised her eyebrow. “What if that was a bonus but it wasn’t the real reason? He told me the Lannister’s were dangerous.”

Sandor laughed unpleasantly. “No shit.”

“He told me Tyrion is dangerous.”

Sandor shook his head in disbelief. “Tyrion?”

“He told me to trust no one, not even you.” Arya stared intently at Sandor.

Sandor couldn’t believe the audacity of the man. Then he had another thought. “Is it the state visit? Is Daenerys in danger?”

“I don’t know. I can’t imagine if Jaqen was here to kill the Queen at the Lannister’s request that he would have ever revealed he was in King’s Landing to me or to you or to anyone else for that matter. That’s just not how they work.”

“How sure are you about that?"

“If Jaqen came to give the gift of death, he would come on silent cat feet and no one would know what was happening until it was already too late.”

Sandor regarded Arya with unease. “Well, maybe you should avoid the Lannisters just in case. Luckily, you aren’t going to be anywhere near the Red Keep for the Queen’s visit.”

Arya touched his cheek softly. “Promise me you will be very careful not to put your trust in the wrong person, Sandor.”

. . . . .

Arya didn’t understand what was going on but she knew she had to warn Sandor even if it meant betraying Jaqen’s trust. What had Jaqen expected her to do? She also felt a little guilty for not telling Sandor she would be attending the ball. Maybe she was just getting paranoid but when she’d first heard about Sansa’s disappearing dress, she’d suspected Jaqen might have had something to do with it. It had almost made sense that if she didn’t have her dress, she wouldn’t be able to go to the ball. She knew that sounded more than a little crazy. After all, her own dress hadn’t gotten lost. It was safe and sound at Margaery’s while her grandmother’s own seamstress attended to it.

After Sandor went home later that evening, Arya tossed and turned and had trouble falling asleep. Finally, she got out of bed and made herself a cup of cocoa. She must have awoken Sansa because she padded out to the kitchen to join her.

“Is something wrong, Arya?” Sansa asked as she blew on her hot cocoa.

Arya sighed. “Sansa, while I was in Braavos, I met a man.”

Sansa grinned. “So far, so good.”

Arya shook her head. “No. There was nothing good about it. As a matter of fact, he turned out to be quite the opposite of good.”

“Why haven’t you told me about this before?”

Arya shrugged. “There was no need to get everyone upset. We broke up and I haven’t seen him for a couple of years but now he’s here.”

“You mean he’s here in King’s Landing? Has he tried to contact you? Has he threatened you?”

“We’ve spoken. He’s not really a danger to me exactly.” Arya paused and tried to look anywhere besides Sansa’s concerned face. “He’s more of a danger to other people.”

Sansa laughed nervously. “You mean he breaks people’s kneecaps?”

“Noooo.”

“Then what? Don’t tell me, he’s a Faceless Man.” Sansa joked. Arya’s eyes flew to her sister’s eyes involuntarily. Sansa’s mouth fell open. “Arya Stark! You . . . you . . . I can’t believe this!”

“Calm down. He hasn’t done anything. I’m just a little worried that he’s here.”

“A little worried!” Sansa shouted as she shot up out of her chair.

“Shh, lower your voice. I’m not sure what’s going on. He warned me about the Lannister family, Tyrion specifically.”

Sansa sat back down indignantly. “Now I know he’s playing games with you. Tyrion is a lovely man!”

Arya reached out across the table and took Sansa’s hand. “I agree that Tyrion is alright. The problem is Daenerys’ state visit and the ball. I’m not sure if it’s safe for us to attend.”

“Did this _man_ say anything about the ball?

“No.”

Sansa shook her head. “So, there may or may not be a problem. Someone may or may not want to harm someone. You don’t have anything specific to go on. You are just suspicious.”

“Yeah.”

“If this _man_ is really who you say he is; why would he tell you anything? I think he’s playing some mind games with you. You need to promise me you won’t see him again and I think it’s time we got some security.” Sansa’s face flushed with anger. “Have you told Sandor about this?”

Arya nodded.

“Good. Fuck that bastard! He’s not going to get away with messing with us!”

. . . . .

Arya was sick of worrying. Fuck Jaqen and his stupid mysterious ways. Whatever he was up to, he could leave her out of it. Like she’d told Sandor, if Jaqen really meant to assassinate someone, he would never have sought her out first. Jaqen’s devotion to duty was absolute.

The ball was tomorrow. She would be happy when it was over. She had one last client today and then she could go home, order a pizza, slip into her jammies and collapse. She picked up the clipboard. Her new client was requesting a full body massage. His name was Jack Kine. If she could just get through the next hour, she was home free. She knocked on the door. “Are you comfortable and ready for our consultation, Mr. Kine?”

“Yes.”

Arya opened the door to find Jack Kine casually sprawled on the massage table. The blue, fluffy blanket rode dangerously low on his hips. He had a delectable, lithe, golden body. It still looked every bit as good as she remembered it. She closed the door behind her and slammed the clipboard with Jack Kine’s medical questionnaire onto a small stand.

“Very funny, Jack Kine.” Of course, Jack Kine was Jaqen. She was shocked as she caught a ghost of a smile on his lips. He was on his back with his head resting on his folded arms.

“A man thought a girl might appreciate some humor. A girl has been troubled.”

Arya lit her candles and turned her Myrish folk music down low. She wanted to hear what he had to say. He proceeded to turn over on his stomach and Arya adjusted the blanket. She rolled up a towel and placed it underneath his calves to take the pressure off his lower back. As Arya warmed the aromatic essential oil in her hands she wondered how much trouble she would get into if she were to snap his bones.

She began by oiling him up. She was damn sure not going to give him a full body massage. He would be lucky to get whatever she chose to give him. She moved to the head of the table and placed her palms on the back of his neck. It made her angry that he trusted her. It made her angry that he knew she still cared enough about him not to throttle him.

She massaged up to the base of his scalp. Even though he had tried to appear casual when she’d come through the door, she could still feel the tension in his body. She leaned forward over him and slid her hands downwards over each side of his muscular back. He had never been able to let go completely. She followed the curvature of his back to the tops of his buttocks and then dipped her hands on each side of his waist and then moved upwards again and continued over his shoulders.

She remembered how she used to take it personally that he wouldn’t let go. She used to think it was because he didn’t trust her. It was much later when she finally realized he did trust her; he just didn’t trust himself. Arya’s hands skimmed over him again and again, first with the light strokes of the effleurage movement and then with the deeper strokes of the petrissage movement. She knuckled and kneaded his smooth body.

Suddenly, Jaqen sat up. “Enough, Arya Stark.”

She didn’t know why he was upset. Most people would never be able to tell when he was upset but Arya had spent enough time with him that she could tell the difference in his demeanor. Arya stood beside him and waited quietly.

Jaqen finally looked at her with his pale blue eyes. He’d never once told her he’d loved her. He had more lines on his face than he’d had before. He had lines around his eyes, his forehead and around his mouth. They definitely weren’t laugh lines. He hadn’t told her he loved her because although he was the world’s most accomplished liar, he had respected her enough not to lie to her about that.

“You’re wrong.” 

Arya’s breath caught in her throat. Had he just read her thoughts?

“Leave a man now. A man must get dressed. A man has to go.”

He looked so serious it frightened her. She turned off the music and quickly went to the door.

“Lovely girl, please, be careful.” He entreated.

Arya couldn’t stop herself. She looked back over her shoulder. “You too.”

Arya kicked herself afterwards for failing to get more information from him. She had lost her courage. Her only consolation was that she didn’t think their meeting had gone as he had planned either. She’d had the distinct impression that when Jaqen had sat up and made her stop, he’d lost his courage as well.


	20. Calm as Still Water

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the Lovely Flower

Sansa had insisted on hiring a security guard after her talk with Arya. Apparently, she meant business because the very next day the agency sent over a potential candidate for the job. Arya moved the furniture in the living room to give her some space to conduct an “interview” but the candidate failed miserably. After Arya helped him get up from the floor and applied an ice pack to his knee, she had to show him the door. Arya had agreed to hire someone not because she was afraid of Jaqen but because she wanted Sansa to be protected at the ball.

Yesterday, following her frustrating appointment with Jack Kine, Arya came home and had already changed into her pajamas when a second candidate arrived for an interview. He was much more to Arya’s liking. His name was Finn. Arya was impressed because he had excellent jujitsu skills and she hadn’t been able to take him down. She had hired him on the spot and explained his assignment for the following evening. Of course, everyone had to be pre-screened for access to the Red Keep so Sansa had to call Tyrion and have him obtain a last minute clearance for the man.

Arya was surprised when a team of two hairdressers and a make-up artist arrived at the condo. Arya thought it was a bit much but apparently that was how it was done in the south. Of course they used to be cared for at Winterfell but that had been quite awhile ago while their mother was still alive. Ever since Arya had left home to go to school in Braavos, she’d had to take care of her own personal needs. The fading greenish, yellow bruising on Arya’s arm courtesy of Hyle Hunt was successfully covered with make-up at Sansa’s insistence.

Sansa’s dress was spectacular. It was white with silver embroidered designs. It had two slits in the front along her legs with gold lace insets. The top consisted of a low-cut sweetheart neckline with an accentuating gold lace appliqué across the top that continued around the outer sides of her breasts and then underneath as it continued to extend down either side of her abdomen. Her dress was backless but had draped white chiffon that streamed from each of her shoulders down her back. Sansa looked every bit as classy and regal as a queen.

Arya’s dress was lemon chiffon with a high, straight neckline. The color was a striking contrast with her dark hair. It had no ornamentation but it was backless and showed off her figure perfectly. It had a long, flowing train and made Arya appear ephemeral and softly dreamy. Sansa let her borrow their mother's vintage black satin Chanel evening bag with a silver handle. Arya’s dark hair was swept up on top of her head and secured with a silver clasp.

When Pod arrived, Arya was actually surprised at how well he looked in a tux. She complimented him and he turned bright red. “No, you two look truly fantastic. They probably won’t let me in the door with you.” He complained.

Arya took out her phone and she and Sansa squeezed Pod between them and she took their photo and showed it to him. “See how good we all look together, Pod? All the ladies will be asking who that hot guy is and they will be scheming how to steal you away from us.” Arya laughed.

Tyrion arrived a few minutes later and smiled appreciatively at Sansa. “My goodness, you are too beautiful for words.” He took Sansa's hand and gazed up at her with awe. Sansa bent down and kissed him on the cheek and then he turned her face to his and quickly gave her a kiss on the lips.

Arya and Pod turned to look at each other and nodded their heads knowingly. It was obvious Tyrion and Sansa were smitten with each other. Tyrion then dutifully complimented Arya and greeted Pod warmly. “I haven’t seen you since you started working for Brienne. How are you two getting along?” Tyrion asked.

“It’s an honor to work for Brienne, Mr. Lannister. She does keep me busy. I had no idea my employment would be so physical. I’m a fairly decent kickboxer now.”

Tyrion chuckled and his eyes sparkled. “She means well, Podrick.”

. . . . .

When the limo arrived at the gate to the Red Keep, they were denied entry. Tyrion was stunned. “But I’m Tyrion Lannister.” He sputtered.

“Oh, you are allowed in as well as Mr. Payne and the security officers. It’s just the two ladies who are on the no entry list.”

Tyrion turned beet red. “It’s my nephew, Joffrey, isn’t it? This is his doing! Wait until I get my hands on him! I’m canceling his order right now. Let us in.”

The gate guard looked decidedly uncomfortable. “Please have your driver pull the limo aside so as not to impede the flow of traffic, Sir.”

“No! Does Joffrey Baratheon really have more say so than me?” Tyrion fumed.

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Mr. Lannister. The order was put in place by Sandor Clegane.”

Sansa turned to glare at Arya. Oh shit! Arya whipped out her phone. There were about a dozen messages from Sandor. She supposed he must have had a look at the guest list and saw their names and was now trying to prevent them from attending the ball out of concern for their safety.

“Clegane?” Tyrion continued. “What have you two ever done to Clegane?” He looked questioningly at Sansa and Arya. “I’m sorry, no. I’m sure he must have been following Joff’s orders.” He indicated for his driver to pull over as he took out his phone and called Jaime. Unfortunately, Jaime wasn’t able to countermand the order either. His father was forced to get onto the phone and speak to the gate guard. Tywin's voice could be heard shouting very loudly by everyone in the vehicle.

They still arrived early enough to have their photos taken on the red carpet. Afterwards they had to go through a metal detector but then they had to squeeze their way into the large reception room as it was already filled. Even though their guard, Finn, was beside them a man still managed to accidentally bump into Sansa. He turned around to apologize and Arya was dismayed to see that the man was their slimy Uncle Petyr Baelish.

“Oh, my dear, sweet Sansa,” he simpered. “Please allow me to beg your pardon. I must say you look divine!” He glanced at Arya. “Uh, you too.” He added unenthusiastically.

“Petyr!” The shrill voice of their Aunt Lysa Arryn could be heard above the noise of the crowd. “Petyr!”

Petyr tried to hide his pained expression. “Over here, dearest.”

“I declare Petyr Baelish. How do you always manage to slip away from me?” Lysa huffed.

“Look who it is, my dear. It’s your esteemed nieces! Isn’t this a pleasant surprise?”

Aunt Lysa looked Sansa and Arya over as if they were something unpleasant she’d found on the bottom of her shoe. “Er . . . what are you doing here?” She asked rudely.

Tyrion made his way back to Sansa’s side. “They’re with me.”

“Oh, how delightful!” Lysa quickly changed her tune. “I’m so pleased to see my two favorite nieces! I hope they have been behaving themselves, Mr. Lannister.” She sighed as she shook her head sadly.

Tyrion was taken aback. “Of course they have been behaving themselves. They are both lovely young women.”

“Of course they are.” Lysa grimaced. “If you say so.”

Arya could sense Sansa bristling at her side. Arya could care less if the old bat insulted them but Sansa was liable to slap her if she didn’t intervene. “Where’s Robin?” Arya asked innocently.

Lysa glanced around in a panic. “Oh, Petyr! Where’s my Sweetrobin? He’s lost!” She frantically clutched Petyr and they disappeared into the crowd.

Pod looked after them with concern. “Maybe we should help them find their little boy.”

Arya put her hand on his arm. “It’s alright, Pod. He can look after himself. He’s seventeen.”

Pod tapped Arya’s shoulder. “Look, there’s Shireen.” He waved and Shireen maneuvered her way through the crowd to them while pulling Hot Pie along with her.

“Arya. You look absolutely beautiful!” Shireen exclaimed.

“Arry, is that really you?” Hot Pie looked confused.

“Sansa you look fantastic too! I have to get a photo.” Shireen took her phone out and Finn was tasked with taking pictures. Shireen put her phone away and then seemed to catch sight of someone over Arya’s shoulder. She looked upset.

Arya turned around to look but didn’t see anything. “What’s the matter, Shireen?”

“Don’t look now but there’s my father’s new lady friend, Melisandre.”

Arya was aware that Shireen’s parents had been recently divorced. She turned again and spotted Shireen’s father, Stannis Baratheon, with his arm around a raven-haired woman dressed in flaming red. Arya thought she looked every bit the scarlet woman.

She turned back around to find Shireen with her eyes narrowed. “Some people say she’s a real witch.”

Hot Pie appeared to be shocked by his sweetheart’s less than kind words.

Pod started to snicker and Arya elbowed him in the ribs.

Tyrion had stepped away and was speaking to another couple but he made his way back to their group. Tyrion greeted Shireen and was introduced to Hot Pie. "Hot Pie?” Tyrion raised his eyebrow.

“He’s a baker.” Pod explained.

“Oh, I see. I’m ever so pleased to meet you, Mr. Pie.” Tyrion shook his hand.

Sansa whispered loudly. “Behave yourself, Tyrion. They’ve started coming around to choose who is going to be presented to the Queen.”

Arya thought Sansa didn’t like Daenerys all that much but she sure seemed like she wanted to be chosen. She practically squealed when their entire party was asked to step into the smaller reception room. Tyrion’s security man and Finn left to take their place in the banquet hall.

The people fortunate enough to be chosen were grouped into small semi-circles and when everyone was suitably prepared; four members of the Queen’s Guard marched in and took a stance on either side of the door. After a hushed pause, Queen Daenerys swept into the room.

She really was exquisitely beautiful. She was wearing a sky-blue satin gown with a gold print design. It featured a plunging neckline and a wide gold open-weave belt adorned with large round colored wooden beads swinging from it. She had matching gold capped sleeves and an attached full-length cape. Her silver hair was more intricately braided than ever.

Accompanying her were her hosts, Tywin and Cersei Lannister, along with her inner circle. An extremely attractive bearded man stood proudly a step behind her on her right side. Jorah Mormont was scowling beside him. On Daenerys’ left was her confidant, Missandei and next to Missandei was Grey Worm. The Queen’s Hand, Varys, was the last one to enter along with the rear guard.

The hosts were supposed to greet their guests first. The order of precedence of the royal party was from lowest ranking to highest ranking. Tywin and Cersei began to circulate and greet their guests. Since Cersei was lower ranking than her father, she was the first to approach their group. A staff member would quietly ask the names of each couple and then turn and relay the information to the host. Of course, they already knew who Tyrion was but it was protocol to do it in a precise manner.

“Mr. Tyrion Lannister and Ms. Sansa Stark.”

“ _Brother Dearest_.” Cersei said as she extended her hand. "I’m so glad you could make it.” She said as her voice dripped with sarcasm.

“Thank you, my _sweet_ sister.” Tyrion replied.

Cersei turned to Sansa and shook her hand lightly. “Sansa, you are looking well.”

“Thank you, Ms. Lannister.”

“What a shame you are no longer with my son and have been forced to accept an invitation from just _anyone_ no matter how _lowly_ so as not to miss the social event of the season.”

Sansa flushed furiously. Cersei had managed to insult both her and Tyrion at the same time.

The staff member intoned. “Ms. Shireen Baratheon and Mr. . .”

“Hot Pie.” Tyrion interrupted.

“It’s lovely to see you, Shireen.” Cersei declared as she shook Shireen’s hand.

“It is nice to see you too, Aunt Cersei.”

Cersei frowned as she shook Hot Pie’s hand. “Nice to meet you, Mr. Uh . . . Pie.”

Hot Pie was frightened to death so he just nodded.

“Ms. Arya Stark and Mr. Podrick Payne.”

Cersei looked down her nose at Arya. “Ah, Arya. I hope you do not have your sword hidden somewhere underneath your gown.”

Arya graciously shook Cersei’s hand. “Of course not, Ms. Lannister.”

“Mr. Payne. You are traveling in very high circles for someone who, if I remember correctly, was nothing more than Tyrion’s gopher.” Cersei smiled unpleasantly as she shook Pod’s hand. Pod wisely remained silent.

When it was Tywin’s turn to greet their group, he was very stately and proper except for when he spoke to Arya. He extended his hand and Arya shook it. “I have not seen you in many a year, young lady. I do recall you were rather a handful but I must say you have grown up rather nicely. Although I asked Sandor Clegane for an explanation as to why he should take the unprecedented step to try and have you excluded from this event, he refused to answer me. Rest assured, I am not going to ask if at one time you put a frog in his ceremonial dog helm or a thumbtack on his chair but I have my suspicions.”

Arya opened her mouth to protest but Tywin held up his hand and silenced her.

The royal party began to circulate. The Queen’s Hand, Varys, was accompanied by her trusted advisor, Jorah Mormont. Arya remembered when Dany had visited Winterfell with Jon and it had been extremely obvious that Mr. Mormont was in love with his Queen. Arya wondered if he was jealous of the gorgeous young man standing next to Dany. 

Varys greeted Tyrion warmly. They began to tease each other about their Cyvasse gaming skills. “Unlike you, Tyrion, I choose my allies carefully and my enemies more carefully still.”

Jorah Mormont clapped Tyrion on the back. He brought up the time they had sailed down the Rhoyne River through Valyria and had been afraid for their lives.

The Queen’s confidant and translator, Missandei, seemed to know Tyrion as well. She and Grey Worm greeted him as if they were prepared for him to tease them.

Tyrion considered her with a twinkle in his eye. “Missandei, have you heard any good jokes lately?”

Missandei tried not to smile. “Two translators were on a sinking ship. The first says, “Do you know how to swim?” The second says, “No, but I can shout for help in 19 languages.” How was that, Mr. Lannister?”

Tyrion laughed delightedly.

Grey Worm shook his head. “That is the worst joke I ever heard.”

Finally, they were presented to Queen Daenerys and her companion, Daario Naharis. Arya and Sansa turned to look at each other. He had been Dany’s boyfriend before Jon!

Tyrion bowed his head and Dany gave him her hand. “Tyrion, I have missed you.” She sighed. “I think we have much to discuss.”

“Your Majesty, I would be delighted to discuss whatever you wish.” He said with sincerity.

She smiled at him and showed him her dimples.

“Sansa.” Dany shook her hand. “I hope we can start afresh.”

Sansa gave a slight curtsy. “Yes, Your Majesty. I would like that very much.”

“How is Jon?”

“He is well, Ma’am. He is currently stationed at the Wall.”

“Yes, Jon was always devoted to duty.” Dany said rather wistfully.

The staff member intoned, “Ms. Shireen Baratheon and Mr. Hot Pie” 

Shireen gave a curtsy as Dany shook her hand. “You are the daughter of Stannis Baratheon?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

“Are you a student, Ms. Baratheon?”

“Yes, I am studying to become an educator.”

“I’m sure that will be a rewarding career.”

“Mr. Pie. What an unusual name.” The Queen said as she shook his hand. Hot Pie bowed his head. He was too embarrassed to tell her that was only his nickname and that Tyrion had started the joke that it was his actual name. “Are you a student as well, Mr. Pie?”

“No, Your Majesty, I’m a baker.”

Daenerys burst out laughing. “Of course!”

“Good to see you again, Arya. Do you still fence?” Dany asked as she and Arya shook hands and Arya bowed her head. She wasn’t about to curtsy for anyone.

“Oh, I wouldn’t give up fencing for the world, Your Majesty.”

“What was your sword’s name again?”

“Needle, Ma’am.”

“Yes, it is fitting that the Bringer of Dawn’s namesake should have some warrior skills.”

The Queen turned to Pod. “Mr. Payne.”

“Your Majesty.” Podrick bowed his head as Daenerys shook his hand.

“What do you do?”

“I am the assistant to Brienne Tarth.”

“My goodness.” She blinked. “You are certainly a courageous young man.” She grinned.

. . . . .

After everyone had been presented to the Queen, they were all escorted to the Great Hall where the banquet was to be held. They were shown to their tables but weren’t allowed to be seated. No one was allowed to be seated before the Queen and she would be the last to enter the room. In the meantime, the other guests were being shown in as well and the room was filling up quickly.

The Great Hall was a cavernous, rectangular room with an extremely high arched ceiling held up with great oaken beams. The exposed stonework was covered by large elaborate tapestries which depicted the history of Westeros as well as the Baratheon and Lannister family histories. There was an enormous triple fireplace. Of course there was no fire because it was the middle of summer but they were each filled with dozens of white candles. There were two gigantic sigils mounted over the fireplaces. One was for the Baratheons. It depicted a crowned black stag on a yellow background with their words, “Ours is the Fury”. The other sigil was for the Lannisters. It depicted a gold lion on a rich, red background with the words, “Hear Me Roar”.

There were two great chandeliers suspended from the ceiling and a small balcony overlooking the room. Opposite the fireplaces was a long, rectangular table set on a dais. It was reserved for the royal party as well as for Tywin and Cersei. Everyone else was to sit at a series of round tables. The chairs were intricately carved walnut with plush red velvet upholstery. The tables were covered in snow white linens and weighed down with sparkling Baccarat crystal, custom-made fine china and priceless heirloom silver.

Arya was chatting with Pod while simultaneously checking out the positions of the security people that were visible along the walls and coming in and out of the doors. Their guard, Finn, was fairly near their table. She also spotted Meryn Trant, Arys Oakheart, Boros Blount and Cersei’s handsome man, Rolf. She was nervously keeping an eye out for Sandor as well.

When she spotted him, he was moving straight towards her like a missile locked onto a target. His long legs were striding purposefully across the room and he didn’t look happy. He may have been just the tiniest bit angry.

"Uh, Pod?" Arya murmured.

“What?”

“I may have forgotten to mention to Sandor that I was attending the ball and that you so graciously offered to be my date.”

“Are you serious!” Pod exclaimed. “I hope he realizes it’s not an actual date. He’s not going to be mad, is he?”

“Well, I think we’re about to find out.” Arya motioned towards Sandor.

Pod took one look at Sandor and panicked. “Oh my Gods, Arya! What have you done? He looks furious.”

Sandor was almost upon them. “Pod, let me do the talking.” Pod didn’t answer so she glanced over at him only he wasn’t there. She turned around to see him quickly racing for the exit. 

Arya turned back around to find Sandor towering over her. His hands were clenched and he definitely wasn’t happy. “Whoops!” She laughed nervously. “Did I forget to tell you I was invited to the ball?” She tried to make her eyes look as wide and as innocent as possible while she reached for his hand. “You’re not mad at me are you, sweetling?”

Sandor yanked his hand away. “Don’t you dare try to call me your sweetling, Girl!" He hissed. "You can forget about being in danger from anyone else because I’m about to kill you!”


	21. Having a Ball

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the Lovely Flower

Sandor wanted to grab Arya by the scruff of her neck and shake her. He couldn’t believe it when he’d seen her name on the guest list. This was the last place he wanted her to be. Her sister was here with her too. What was it with these Stark women? Did they have no sense of self-preservation? She was looking up at him with her grey eyes and oh, did she ever look fine. She was easily the most beautiful woman in the room. It made him even angrier somehow. She knew the affect she had on him and she had no shame when she used it against him.

“Sandor.” Arya began but then she looked to his right and shook her head.

Sandor turned and saw a man pause and stop a few feet away. The man hesitated and then looked from Arya to Sandor. Arya shook her head more firmly and the man scrutinized Sandor again and then blatantly sized him up. What the fuck! Was the man preparing to fight him? Who the fuck did he think he was? Sandor glared at him and was about to confront him when Arya caught his wrist.

“That’s my new security man. He’s only doing his job.”

Sandor was taken aback. She’d hired a bodyguard? Of course he wanted her to be safe but on the other hand he was irrationally insulted. It wasn’t some muscular stranger’s job to take care of his woman; it was his job. He knew he was being unfair which only made him more upset.

He turned to look back down at Arya and narrowed his eyes. She had a really bad habit of leaving out important details and then just springing them on him without any warning. He’d lost count of how many times she’d already dropped a bomb on him. He grasped her arm and pulled her towards him. “You and I need to have a little talk. In the meantime, I want you and Sansa to leave.”

“I say, Clegane, what has come over you?” Tyrion interjected. He was stunned at how Clegane was scowling at Arya and had his huge hand wrapped around her slender arm. He couldn’t imagine what had made him so irate. “That’s no way to treat my guest.” Tyrion scolded. “Unhand her this instant!”

Sansa intervened. “Tyrion, I think it’s best if we left Arya and Sandor alone to work out their issues.”

Tyrions eyebrows shot up, “Their issues? Am I missing something? What's going on?”

Sandor’s hand slid down Arya’s arm until he was holding her hand in his.

Tyrion looked again and saw the sorrowful, lovesick expression on Clegane’s face. “Ah, I see. Please excuse me.” He stepped away and took Sansa’s hand. “Are Clegane and your sister really a couple?” He whispered to her in disbelief.

Sansa whispered back, “I didn’t like it at first either but it’s not really so strange once you know Arya.”

Tyrion was at a loss. What was that supposed to mean?

Sandor got a message in his earpiece from Barristan Selmy. He was needed elsewhere on a security issue. Some rich entitled bastard was insisting someone else be let in without clearance. He grunted with frustration. “I have to go do my job.” He turned to Sansa. “Do you know about Arya’s _friend_ from Braavos?"

“She told me about him.” Sansa answered cautiously.

Sandor wanted to knock both of their heads together. “I want you both to leave.”

Sansa shook her head stubbornly.

Arya put her hand on his chest. “Everything’s going to be alright, Sandor.”

“You don’t know that!”

Sandor could see Boros Blount motioning to him and trying to get his attention.

“What’s going on?” Tyrion interrupted. “Why do you want them to leave?”

Sandor took hold of Arya’s shoulders and she placed both of her hands on his chest. “Sandor, I’m going to need you to trust me on this.”

No! It wasn’t right for her to do this to him. He could see Blount and Meryn Trant making their way through the crowd towards him and the last thing he wanted was for them to get involved in his business.

“Please, Sandor.” Arya coaxed.

Sandor tilted his head back and bit his lip. Did she have any idea what she was asking him to do? He dropped his eyes back to hers. “Watch yourself. Don’t take any unnecessary chances.” He sighed. “You mean everything to me.”

. . . . .

After Sandor left, Tyrion questioned Arya. “What was that all about? Why did he want you both to leave?”

Arya glanced over at Sansa.

Sansa took her cue. “It was nothing; Sandor is just over-protective is all.”

Jaime arrived a moment later and further distracted Tyrion. He greeted them all with a courtly bow. Tyrion snorted with laughter.

Jaime gave him a dirty look. “This is my dear friend, Brienne Tarth. Brienne, this is Sansa and Arya Stark and of course you already know my ill-mannered brother.”

Brienne gave Jaime a disapproving look. “That wasn’t nice, Jaime. She smiled at Sansa and looked more closely at Arya. “Don’t I know you?”

“Yes, I watched you defeat Gendry and Pod a few nights ago at the gym.”

Sansa piped up. “Oh yes, I went to your most recent competition. I told Arya I wanted to learn to kickbox just like you.”

Brienne beamed. “Pod.” She barked. “Set Ms. Stark up with a training session with me.”

Arya turned to find Pod standing behind her as if nothing had happened and he hadn’t run for the hills a short time ago.

Brienne turned to smile softly at Jaime. “You can also set Jaime up for a session while you’re at it.”

“Brienne, you know it hasn’t been very long since this happened.” He lifted his prosthetic hand into the air.

“Nonsense. It’s time, Jaime.”

“How did you two meet?” Sansa asked.

Jaime smirked. “It was lucky for Brienne that I just happened along when I did. I saved her life.”

“Jaime.” Brienne’s fair-skin turned decidedly red.

“She fell into the bear pit at the zoo and I jumped in to rescue her from an angry grizzly bear.”

“Now, Jaime, that isn’t exactly how it happened.” Brienne protested. “Someone wasn’t watching their child and the little boy had climbed into the bear pit. I climbed in after him and was able to boost him back up to his parents before the bear noticed.”

Jaime interrupted. “Yeah, but before Brienne could climb out the bear came after her.”

“He did save my life.” Brienne admitted as she smiled at him lovingly.

Jaime returned Brienne’s smile and held up his prosthetic hand. “It was worth it.”

Soon after, everyone was asked to stand behind their seats and then Tywin and Cersei entered the Great Hall and waited at the head table. The Queen’s inner circle solemnly filed in after them and did the same. Two trumpeters stood on either side of the grand double doors and heralded the arrival of Queen Daenerys. She walked in on the arm of Daario Naharis and a hush fell over the room. She took her place at the head table.

Tywin Lannister asked everyone to charge their glasses and then toasted to the Queen’s health. The same photographer that had been taking photos in the reception rooms came forward and took a photo of him with his glass raised in salute. Daenerys graciously thanked her hosts as the photographer got a shot of her. She sat down and then bid everyone else to be seated and the banquet commenced.

Arya hadn’t realized how much she’d missed Esossi cuisine. She had to hand it to the Lannisters; everything was wonderful. The entrée consisted of cream cheese stuffed dates along with chili spiced almonds. The main course was spiced lamb kebabs over a bed of mixed grains and roasted asparagus with olive oil and lemon. The flatbread was served with herb and lemon goat cheese spread. There was Meereenese persimmon wine and Petra Columba spicy witbier and minty green tea. The dessert was roasted grapes drizzled with olive oil and honey, small green figs and Tyroshi honey fingers.

When the meal was concluded, Queen Daenerys left the table and a small intermission was called before it was time to go to the ballroom. Sansa and Arya ran into Olenna Tyrell and she introduced them to her companion, a rather dapper, cheery gentleman named Mr. Steed. It was rather surprising how naughtily they flirted with each other. Arya and Sansa laughed as soon as were out of earshot and agreed that it was possible you were never too old to be in love.

Sandor had been standing behind Tywin at the head table so Arya knew he was assigned to him for the evening and it would be very unlikely he could slip away. Cersei’s favorite, Rolf, had been assigned to her. When the intermission was over, the doors to the ballroom were thrown open and Tywin and Cersei led everyone inside.

Margaery spotted Sansa and made her way over to them. Unfortunately, she brought Joffrey with her. “Oh, Sansa, you look more regal than the Queen!”

Sansa blushed. “Thank you, Margaery. You look lovely. Your dress is amazing!”

Margaery glanced down at her gown. It was light blue with an unadorned skirt but the top was low-cut with gold brocade roses and a gold belt with a center rose medallion. “It’s almost the same color as the Queen’s dress and not only that, her dress has gold designs too! What a disaster! I’ve committed a major faux pas.”

Sansa quickly assured her their dresses were nothing alike. Joffrey was eyeing Sansa’s neckwear. She was sporting her father’s gold filigree direwolf pendant and chain, the very same one she’d given him and Arya had retrieved.

“Nice pendant, Sansa. Where did you find it?” Joffrey remarked drily.

Sansa smirked and she played with the chain. “Why Joffrey,” She tittered. “This belonged to my father. I’m so grateful it was handed down to me. I did lose it once but luckily it turned up again. I intend to keep it safely in my possession until I can hand it down to one of my own children.”

Arya sidled up to her sister and lifted her chin defiantly. “It was me, Joffrey. I found it for her.”

Joffrey took a step towards her but Margaery had already sensed trouble brewing and took his arm. “Oh, look, there’s Loras and Renly!” She then quietly excused herself and dragged Joff along after her.

There was a commotion as the Queen was once again announced. She swept into the ballroom with Jorah Mormont on her arm. Her companion, Daario Naharis, was nowhere to be seen. The photographer made sure to step forward and get some pictures of them together.

The leader of the violin section or the concertmaster made his entrance onto the stage and took a bow. The assembly gave him a round of applause. He then turned towards the orchestra and instructed the musicians to tune their instruments. The oboist played a note so that the musicians could match their pitch to his. Next, the conductor entered the stage as the audience applauded again and the musicians stood. He shook hands with the concertmaster and then the musicians took their seats. Daenerys and Jorah took to the dance floor and the orchestra began to play Voices of Spring by Strauss II.

“Where is Daario Naharis?” Arya overheard Grey Worm ask Missandei.

“It seems the handsome, young adventurer has displeased our Queen and this is her way of letting him know publicly that she is through with him.”

“Ah! You already knew of this, Missandei?” He questioned.

Arya turned and watched as Missandei nodded her head.

“Jorah Mormont shall be very pleased.” Grey Worm commented.

Sansa danced with Tyrion and Arya danced with Pod. She had to admit those stupid ballroom dancing lessons she’d had to endure with Septa Mordane were finally of some use. Arya caught Sandor watching her as Pod swung her around. She saw Gendry dancing with Myrcella and as the dance ended, Bronn swooped in and took Margaery away from Joff and disappeared into the crowd. Joff was left standing all alone and flushed with anger.

Sometime later, Sansa grasped Arya’s arm and pulled her away from everyone. “Daenerys just asked Tyrion to be the new Hand of the Queen!” She hissed into Arya’s ear. “This is terrible! I know he’s going to accept and leave me behind and go off to Meereen and I’ll never see him again!”

“Calm down, Sansa. I don’t think he’ll want to leave you.” Arya tried to reassure her.

“You don’t know Tyrion. He’d love to be in a position of power. He loves nothing more than intrigues and the great bloody game as he likes to call it.”

Arya didn’t know how to respond. She just kept reassuring Sansa that it was obvious Tyrion cared about her.

Arya and Pod went to find Shireen when they came across Davos Seaworth in conversation with Varys. “Ms. Stark!” Mr. Seaworth called to her. “What happened to your groovy flower power outfit? I thought you and Shireen were _outta sight_!” He teased.

Arya grinned at him. “Very funny. Ha ha, that’s a good one, Mr. Seaworth.”

“No, all kidding aside, Ms. Arya, not only is your dress splendid but so are you.”

Arya blushed. “Thank you.”

“Do you know Mr. Varys? Mr. Varys, this is Arya Stark and . . .”

“Podrick Payne.”

She remembered Varys from when she visited the Red Keep when she was younger. “Yes, how are you, Mr. Varys?” There was a certain tension in his face. She wondered if he already knew he’d lost his job and was being replaced.

“It is good to see you again, Ms. Stark. I hope you have been staying out of trouble.” He winked good-naturedly.

“Oh, you know how it is. Sometimes you follow trouble and sometimes it follows you.” She answered noncommittally.

. . . . .

Before they could find Shireen, she bumped into Sandor. “Girl, could I see you for a minute?”

“Of course, Sandor.”

Sandor turned to stare at Pod.

Pod nervously backed up a couple of steps. “I want you to know just in case Arya didn’t make it perfectly clear that she asked me to be her escort only because you were working and . . . I accepted strictly as her friend.”

Arya was proud that this time Pod was able to hold his ground without running away.

“It’s not a problem, kid. Now run along for a little while, okay?”

Pod nodded and left them alone.

Sandor looked down at Arya. “Are you kidding me? Did you really ask Podrick Payne to be your date?”

“Well, I suppose I could have asked Gendry instead.” Arya smirked.

Sandor scowled. “You’re hilarious. Now, leave by that door over there.” He motioned with his chin. “Turn right and follow that hallway. I’ll leave first and I’ll meet you there.”

Arya gave him a minute or two and then did as he instructed. She was careful her bodyguard didn’t follow her. He appeared to be distracted watching Sansa and a large group of women including the Queen of Meereen out on the dance floor doing the “Renegade” during the orchestra's intermission.

Arya followed the hallway until she’d left most of the people loitering in it behind. Sandor beckoned her from up ahead and used his keys to open one of the closed doors and led her inside. He didn’t even turn on the light he just pulled her into his arms and kissed her with barely restrained lust. After he’d tongued her thoroughly, he pulled back and turned her around and pressed her against the wall. “I only have a couple of minutes but I had to touch you.” His hands caressed her bare back and his breaths were heavy. “Oh Girl, you are such a naughty thing, wearing this backless gown. It’s driving me insane.” His lips trailed the back of her neck as his hands continued to feel her delicate skin.

Suddenly his hands slid underneath the sides of the fabric and found their way to her breasts. He continued to kiss her neck as his hands squeezed and then teased her. Arya was feeling decidedly aroused and blazing hot. Sandor continued. “You know what you do to me, don’t you? I’d do anything for you.”

He removed his hands from underneath her dress and then turned her back around to face him. “Arya.” He murmured over and over again between kisses. “I have to get back, Girl. I’m sorry.” Even though he knew he had to go, he still couldn’t seem to stop kissing her.

“Sandor, I don’t want you to get into trouble.” Arya finally managed to say.

He pulled back. “You promise me you will wait up for me when this is over?”

Arya sighed with pleasure. “I promise, Sandor.”

. . . . .

Sansa had cheered up a little after Tyrion had lavished some attention on her and she and Arya were laughing at Davos Seaworth while he was dancing with Stannis’ girlfriend, Melisandre. His dancing style was unique to say the least and Melisandre looked like she’d rather be burnt alive than dancing with Davos.

Arya saw Gendry across the room with Myrcella, Shireen, Hot Pie and Pod and left Sansa with Tyrion as she made her way across the room to her friends. Suddenly, a crowd of people stepped aside and revealed Sansa’s friend, Jeyne Poole, alongside Ramsay Bolton. He’d already seen her and he strode boldy across the floor towards her.

“Arry, you clean up well. I barely recognized you.” Ramsay sneered.

Ramsay’s face was still showing the effects from Arya’s boots. “You aren’t so easy to recognize either.”

He looked her up and down. “How’d you get in here? Did you steal some poor lady’s identity?”

Jeyne laughed nervously. “Don’t be silly, Ramsay. Of course she belongs here. She’s Arya Stark.”

Arya wanted to give Jeyne a dirty look but decided it was best not to take her eyes off Ramsay.

“Arya Stark? I’ve never heard of her. Who the fuck is she?” He spat.

Jeyne was very uncomfortable now. It finally dawned on her that something was seriously wrong. Apparently, she wasn’t all that bright. Surely, she knew what Ramsay had tried to do to Sansa. Why in the Seven Hells would she ever accept an invitation from him to anywhere?

“Wait a minute.” Ramsay smiled unpleasantly. “You’re the sister.”

“Yeah, I’m the sister and I meant what I said. Stay away from Sansa.”

Ramsay leaned forward. “Listen up, bitch. I could care less about that tramp. You’re the one who had better start watching over her shoulder.”

Arya laughed. “Yeah, whatever. I’m quaking in my boots.” She didn’t have time for this crap. “I get it. You’re a creepy little worm that gets his kicks from hurting people. I’m so scared. Now get out of my way, I have more important things to do than waste my time with the likes of you.” Arya went to move past him and sensed his movement towards her but a big flash of light distracted the both of them. Arya realized the roving photographer had just taken Ramsay’s picture and had temporarily blinded him. Before she could get out of the way, he’d taken her picture too.

Arya blinked a few times and then turned and left them behind. Ramsay Bolton was an ass. She would deal with him some other time. She scanned the room for her so-called bodyguard, Finn. She spotted him briefly saying something to the handsome man, Rolf. She then watched as the handsome man walked away. She still couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something about him that was familiar. He reminded her of something. She just couldn’t put her finger on it.


	22. Fear Cuts Deeper than Swords

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the Lovely Flower

Arya was with her friends when she noticed Gendry had his arm around Myrcella. She caught his eye and looked pointedly towards his arm and shrugged her shoulders as if to silently ask him what was up with that. He scowled and shook his head abruptly in response. Arya was taken aback. If Gendry wanted to get with his sister she supposed it was his business but on the other hand it most certainly wouldn’t be fair to Myrcella if she wasn’t aware of the situation.

Eventually, Gendry let go of Myrcella and whispered into Arya’s ear. “I’ll explain it to you later.”

Hot Pie was talking enthusiastically about the orchestra. He told them he’d recently heard some classical music but it was nothing to experiencing it live. “Myrcella, I can’t believe you actually live here.” 

Myrcella shrugged her shoulders. “I guess I never really gave it much thought before.”

Hot Pie admired the rich, dark paneling and the magnificent crystal chandeliers. “Why is there a balcony on both sides of the room?” He asked.

They gazed up at one of the balconies. It was painted gold and had deep red velvet curtains held back with gold tassels and a draped swag across the top. On either side were decorative matching drapes that extended all the way down to the floor.

Myrcella explained. “Oh, those are for when we have a concert. This room is filled with chairs but the opera boxes are for the family and our special guests.”

Pod asked Shireen to dance and she accepted so Arya found herself dancing with Hot Pie. “We can stop dancing at any time, Arry.” Hot Pie murmured.

Arya was surprised. “Why would we stop?”

“I know my waltzing is not all that good.”

“What are you talking about? You dance just fine.” Arya assured him.

“Well, Gendry and I did have to take some lessons once we learned we would be coming to this shindig.” He blushed. “I just wished I had a little more notice. I didn’t want to embarrass Shireen.”

Arya smiled at Hot Pie. “You’re doing fine. You have nothing to worry about.”

Arya was joking with Pod when she saw Sansa headed in her direction. She looked upset.

“Oh, Arya! My dress has been ripped.” Sansa grasped one of the long, flowing shoulder pieces that cascaded down her back. It was partially torn loose. “I thing Joff did it. I felt a tug and when I turned around he was standing nearby trying to look innocent!” She fumed. “Do you think you can help me fix it?”

Sansa and Arya headed for the restroom. Their bodyguard, Finn, dutifully followed them. Arya was getting sick and tired of someone watching over her already. How did people like the Lannisters put up with the invasion of privacy on a daily basis? Who would want someone to follow them to the bathroom for goodness sake? He posted himself against the wall opposite the door out in the hallway. Arya was relieved because she would have had to put her foot down if he tried to follow them any further.

The ladies lounge consisted of two rooms. The outer room had some sofas and chairs. There was a long vanity with ten chairs and a lighted mirror for primping. The other room was the actual restroom. Arya had Sansa sit down in one of the chairs while she used a safety pin to fix her dress. Sansa fussed but was eventually satisfied with the results.

Arya leaned forward across the vanity to get a closer look at herself in the mirror. Her eye make-up was smudged a little so she sat down to fix it. Sansa got up and sat on one of the sofas and started checking her phone.

Sansa glanced up at Arya. “Hey, there’s an email from the security agency.” She snickered. “It’s probably a notice that they intend to sue us for damages because you couldn’t restrain yourself from tossing around that first guy they sent out.”

“I wasn’t tossing him around! I was conducting a professional assessment of his abilities.” Arya huffed.

Sansa rolled her eyes. “Yeah, that’s why you looked so pleased with yourself when you had him pinned to the floor in a headlock and you made him cry.”

“He wasn’t crying! He was probably allergic to your fancy wool rug!” Arya protested. “His eyes were just watering.”

“Oh darn! There’s an email from my boss. He wants me to come to work early on Monday! It has something to do with an unscheduled deposition. I wonder if I can get away with pretending I didn’t get his message.” Sansa had been working over the summer as a legal assistant for a law firm downtown.

Arya checked her dress to make sure her train wasn’t mangled. She had caught it on her heels numerous times. “Wait, you never told me what the security agency wanted.”

“Oh, it was nothing.” Sansa responded. “They just said they would send another job candidate on Monday. They must have gotten their wires crossed.”

Arya took a deep breath and held it. She let it out slowly. She walked over to Sansa and stood looking down at her. “Does it say who they intended to send?”

Sansa looked annoyed but checked the message again. “Some guy named Jory Sinclair was scheduled for an interview with us on Monday.”

“It doesn’t say anything about Finn being sent on Friday evening?”

“No.”

“When was the email sent?” Arya asked tersely.

Sansa looked puzzled. “It was sent near the end of the business day on Friday and . . .”

“And shortly thereafter, Finn showed up unannounced.” Arya finished. They both turned to stare at the door nervously. “Either the security agency made a mistake and forgot to mention Finn or . . . they didn’t send him.”

Sansa stood up and took hold of Arya’s arm and whispered. “If the security agency didn’t send him, who did?”

Something suddenly clicked in Arya’s mind. She finally realized what it was about Rolf that seemed so familiar; it was the way he moved. He walked silently on little cat feet just like Jaqen. It was almost as if they had the same teacher. It was possible she was letting her imagination run away with her but then she remembered there actually was a Faceless Man known as the handsome man. Apparently, he was called that because he was incredibly good-looking. She’d never met him so she couldn’t be sure if it was him or not. Then she recalled she’d seen Finn say something in passing to Rolf earlier in the evening. Shit! Their conversation might have been completely innocent or maybe it wasn’t innocent at all.

Arya bit her lip. “Sansa. Its possible Finn is not who he seems. He may be a Faceless Man.”

Sansa stared at Arya with her eyes wide open in shock. “No, no, no, no!” Sansa wailed. “I don’t understand.”

“Either he used us as a way to get in here or his job is to keep me from interfering with their plans.”

“What are their plans?”

Arya frowned. “They are most likely after Daenerys.”

“What? No!”

Sansa frowned. “But Finn’s background has been checked. Don’t you remember how I had to call Tyrion last night so he could speed up his clearance?"

Arya grimaced. “It’s possible I’m wrong and I am just making something out of nothing but it would be easy for the Faceless Men to fake some paperwork and take someone else’s identity.”

“You have to tell Sandor.”

Arya took out her phone and tried to call him but he didn’t answer so she left him a text. She didn’t tell Sansa or Sandor about Rolf. She was less sure of him. She wanted to get a closer look at him and observe him first. Seven Hells! She wasn’t sure about anything. “Sansa, when we get back into the ballroom, I want you to create a slight diversion and get Finn’s attention so I can slip away.”

Sansa started to protest.

“No, it’ll be fine. Give me about ten minutes and then find Sandor and tell him about our suspicions about Finn.”

“Where are you going to go?” Sansa clutched Arya’s arm more tightly.

“Don’t worry about me. I know what I’m doing.”

. . . . .

Arya watched as Sansa tripped and stumbled like a champ and Finn leapt to her aid. Arya was able to slip away and find Rolf. She had only been watching him for a couple of minutes when he left Cersei and walked towards one of the doors. Arya casually followed along after him. He went down one of the long hallways and Arya let him get ahead. Eventually, she lost sight of him. The hallway came to an end and split off in either direction. She hesitated before sticking her head around either blind corner. She needn’t have worried about losing Rolf though. He suddenly stepped out from the hallway to her left with a gun in his hand. Shit!

. . . . .

Sansa had been hopping nervously from one foot to the other. That stupid Arya! How dare she let her talk her into this ridiculous plan! She was going to throttle her! Just as she judged the ten minutes were up, Tywin Lannister stepped forward to give a speech. Sandor was standing right behind him. When she tried to maneuver her way around to him, she was roughly stopped by Meryn Trant. He wouldn’t listen to her and he stared at her menacingly. She had to make her way back to Tyrion so she could ask for his help.

. . . . .

Rolf did not look like he was joking. He waved the gun and directed Arya to walk in front of him. He made sure to stay far enough away from her so that she couldn't make any moves on him without him having plenty of warning. Arya decided to do what he asked for now. There was no sense getting herself killed. She wouldn’t be able to help anyone if she was dead.

Rolf had her stop at a set of double doors. An old fashioned key projected from the lock. He motioned for her to go inside the room. After he followed her inside, he flipped on the light switch to reveal a vast library. He directed her to a massive oak desk. He reached inside his pocket and threw a couple of zip ties at her feet. “Sit down on the floor and bind your feet.” He ordered.

Arya hesitated.

“Come on, I don’t have all day.” He chided.

Arya felt she had no choice but to take her chances at that point. She leapt forward but was restrained by her stupid dress and Rolf expertly grabbed hold of her foot and shoved her back onto her arse. He squatted down and pointed the weapon right in her face. “Bind your feet, little Miss Badass.”

Arya begrudging bound her feet together. Naturally, she tried to leave enough room for her to wiggle free but Rolf wasn’t stupid. When he reached down to pull the zip tie tighter, Arya lunged forward and knocked him from a squatting position back onto his butt. She continued forward and tried to mount him but it was almost impossible with her feet partially bound. He used his superior arm strength to flip her over and on her front and straddled her.

He yanked her arms behind her back to bind them but Arya involuntarily grunted in pain. Her arm was still sore where Hyle had injured it. Rolf paused. He rolled her back over and bound her hands in front of her instead. Then he took out a length of rope and wound it around the tie at her ankles and tied the end of the rope to the foot of the massive desk.

Arya looked up at him angrily. She supposed if he was going to kill her, he wouldn’t have gone through the trouble to tie her up so well. “You just wait! I’ll get you for this!” She hissed.

Rolf stood up. He picked up her bag that had fallen on the floor and removed her phone. He yanked the desktop landline phone cord out of the wall and removed it and put it into his pocket. He smiled down at her. “I’m ready whenever you are, Little Miss.”

As he strode across the room Arya shouted after him. “I’m not afraid of you!” She was embarrassed and enraged. “I don’t know why anyone ever thought you were handsome! You’re actually quite unattractive!” She could hear his laughter echoing as he went out and locked the door behind him.

. . . . .

Sansa didn’t tell Tyrion all the details. She just told him it was urgent she speak to Sandor. He was able to use his clout to get to him. When she told Sandor about their suspicions about Finn, Sandor and Tyrion came up with a plan for Sansa to lure Finn out of the ballroom and into the hallway were Blount and Trant could detain him. Sandor then frantically searched the room for Arya and couldn’t find her.

Sandor strode out into the hallway and slammed Finn up against the wall. People scrambled out of the way. “Where’s Arya!” He demanded.

Finn looked startled. “How should I know? I’ve been with her the whole time!” He nodded towards Sansa. “What’s going on? Let me go!” He protested.

. . . . .

Arya was cursing up a storm. She was never going to wear a ball gown again, especially one with a train! What had she been thinking? There was such an excess of fabric she had to struggle for a couple of precious minutes to pull her dress up over her legs. She smiled triumphantly when she was finally able to reach the sheath that was strapped to her thigh. She carefully removed her knife and began to work on the zip ties.

She smirked to herself. That stupid handsome man really should have checked her for weapons. He should have known that just because she’d gone through a metal detector didn’t mean anything. Her knife was made of flint with a wooden handle. The Lannisters really should have spent the extra money and upgraded from a metal detector to a full-body scanner.

It took her a couple of more minutes before she was free. She removed her heels because she wasn’t going to be able to run or kick in them very well. She glanced down at her gown. She’d had enough of it getting in her way. It was going to have to go too. She reached down and used her knife and cut the bottom half of her gown off to just above her knees.

Of course, the door was locked. She peered through the keyhole and she shouted with glee when she realized the key was in the lock. She went back over to the desk and found a copier and some paper. She slid the paper underneath the door and then gently pushed the key out of the lock with her knife. It landed on the paper which she then slowly pulled underneath the door. Arya calmly unlocked the door from her side and then went on her way.

Luckily, the first person she saw was Arys Oakheart.

“What happened to your dress?” He exclaimed.

“It’s nothing. I need to contact Sandor Clegane. Can you use your headset?”

Oakheart hesitated.

“No, really. It’s important. I tried calling him but I suppose he’s too busy to pick-up. Besides, I’ve lost my phone.”

Oakheart looked concerned. “What’s going on?”

“Please, it really is important.” Arya implored.

“How important?”

“It’s a security issue.” Arya admitted.

“Alright.” Oakheart used his headset and asked Clegane to meet him at the inner security office. He further explained he was with Arya and it was urgent. “Come with me to the security office.” Oakheart then began to move briskly down the hallway.

Arya trailed barefoot behind him while carrying her heels. “I thought the security complex was a separate building out near the main gate.” She commented.

“It is but there is another inner control room inside the Keep.”

“Oh, okay.” Arya continued to follow him. "Thanks again for helping me out at the art gallery."

Oakheart stopped in front of a non-descript door. “This is it.” He unlocked the door and it swung open. It was dark inside but Arya assumed they might be watching the CCTV cameras in there. Oakheart motioned politely for Arya to go in ahead of him. She stepped forward but some sixth-sense made her hestitate for a split second. She glanced at Arys Oakheart’s face and didn’t like what she saw there.

He quickly grasped her arm and flung her inside the door and slammed her against the wall. The back of her head banged forcefully into it and she was momentarily stunned. She could feel herself sliding down the wall and reached out for something to grab onto to stop herself from falling but there was nothing. Arya landed in a heap on the floor. Her eyes fluttered and then closed.

Oakheart glanced down at her in anger. He really wished she hadn’t made him do that. He glanced back outside the door to make sure no one saw them and then he closed it. He stepped over Arya. It was a real shame but he’d have to take care of her after he was finished. She had been a pretty, young thing but it couldn’t be helped. Of course, he hadn’t flipped on his headset so when he “spoke” to Clegane he hadn’t really been speaking to anyone at all. He started up the staircase directly in front of him while he reached for the silencer in his suit jacket.

Arya opened her eyes. Shit! She slowly got to her feet. She was more than a little shaky. Trust no one, Jaqen had said. Don’t take any unnecessary chances, Sandor had said. Argh! She wasn’t in a room at all. There was only a staircase. Somehow she knew the staircase led to the Lannister family opera box; the very same one Hot Pie had asked Myrcella about. It overlooked the ballroom very nicely. It would be the perfect vantage point for an assassin. Arya knew that Arys Oakheart was up there right now. She had no time to go for help. She silently crept up the stairs.

. . . . .

Sandor, Sansa and Tyrion burst back into the ballroom. They had to find Arya. Sandor was afraid to push the panic button on the whole event because he was afraid for Arya's safety if he did. Tyrion agreed that they had to at least attempt to find Arya one last time. They did decide to warn Jorah Mormont to get the Queen to safety. Tyrion marched resolutely across the room towards him.

. . . . .

Oakheart had installed the silencer on his Sig Sauer p226 9mm. He had put on a ski-mask and was waiting for a clean shot. He was frustrated because everyone kept getting in the way. He was mostly hidden by the red velvet curtain inside the box. Arya rushed forward on little cat feet and shoved Oakheart as hard as she could. One of his hands gripped the railing so he wouldn’t go over and his other hand flew upwards with the gun. He unintentionally pulled the trigger and a loud sound of shattering glass could be heard below. Before anyone understood what was happening, some tiny glass fragments from the crystal chandelier rained down on a few people’s heads. Arya threw her leg up and kicked Oakheart’s weapon out of his hand and it went flying over the railing. Everyone jumped back and it landed harmlessly on the floor.

Several people screamed when they looked up and saw Arya and a masked man fighting. Some people quickly ran away but the majority stayed to watch what was happening. Jorah Mormont threw himself in front of Daenerys and tried to hustle her out of harm’s way but she insisted on staying too. Sansa could be heard screaming bloody murder. Arya’s friends recognized her yellow dress and panicked.

Sandor Clegane's heart dropped to his stomach. Fear gripped him. He felt a terrible tightness in his chest. He couldn't lose her; he wouldn't be able to live without her. Suddenly, he remembered something she'd once said, "the man who fears losing has already lost". He grabbed onto the cord of one of the floor length decorative velvet drapes and began pulling himself up hand over hand in a desperate attempt to quickly reach the opera box.

Arya had her flint knife but Oakheart had his security baton. They went around and around. Normally, Arya thought she could have taken him but her head was still a little woozy. Oakheart was hampered by his bulky Kevlar vest. Arya knew she couldn’t get in any body blows or she would break her foot or her hand on the vest. She had to concentrate on Oakheart’s knees and legs. Oakheart was able to hit her a glancing blow with his baton and Arya almost dropped her knife.

A movement behind Oakheart caught Arya’s eye and she saw Sandor trying to climb over the rail. Oakheart was alerted that something was distracting Arya behind him so she had to quickly regain his attention by letting down her guard. Oakheart pounced on her sudden vulnerability and landed a glancing blow to Arya’s chest as she danced away.

Sandor finally made it over the rail. He clasped his gigantic hand on Arys Oakheart’s shoulder and spun him around to face him. Sandor pulled his arm back and cold-cocked Oakheart right in the face. Arys Oakheart went down for the count and stayed down. He was knocked out cold.

Arya stared at Sandor for half a second before she threw down her knife and leapt into his arms. She wrapped her bare legs around his waist and Sandor held her tightly to him as they kissed each other fervently.

The crowd down below erupted into a loud cheer. Jorah Mormont grabbed Daenerys and kissed her as well but the roving photographer wasn’t there to memorialize it. The photographer burst up the stairs and into the opera box with the handsome man. They both had their guns out. When they realized the situation was under control, the photographer holstered his weapon.

Rolf was still unsure. “What about Clegane?" He nodded to the man on the floor. "Maybe they were working together." He said to his companion.

The photographer shook his head. “We were wrong. Clegane never had anything to do with it." Rolf squatted down and removed Oakheart's ski mask. The photographer continued, "Now secure Oakheart before he wakes up.”

Sandor tried to put Arya down but she wouldn’t let him go. She looked long and hard at the photographer. He had short, dark, curly hair and a mustache and beard. His eyes were brown. He lifted the camera around his neck to take a photo of her and Sandor but just before he did, he smiled. Arya recognized that smile. Even though she had so very rarely seen it, there was no doubt in her mind just who that smile belonged to. Arya gave Jaqen her loveliest smile in return and he snapped the picture. When Arya was through blinking from the flash, Jaqen was gone.

Arya and Sandor realized there was a commotion coming from down below in the ballroom. They looked over the rail and watched as Grey Worm struggled with Varys. Meryn Trant tried to help but was knocked down in the fight. Trant’s gun fell from his hand and slid across the floor. Grey Worm then fell over Trant and lost his balance. The slippery Varys was able to get free long enough to grab Trant’s gun.

Varys looked around wildly but then focused in on Joffrey. He lunged for him and as Joff turned to get away, Varys was able get his arm around his neck and put the gun to Joffrey’s temple. Sandor unholstered his weapon but Arya put her hand on his arm. She motioned to Sansa who was standing too close for comfort to the action. Joff’s face turned bright red as he shouted for help. No one moved. Varys screamed, “No one needs to get hurt! Just get out of my way.”

Varys began to edge towards the door with Joff in tow. Out of nowhere, Brienne charged at him and kicked him in the back. The gun went flying through the air and Varys stumbled forward but was able to regain his footing. He started to run away but Olenna Tyrell calmly edged her cane in front of him and tripped him. Varys went sprawling across the floor and then Bloros Blount and Barristan Selmy jumped on top of him.

Olenna glanced imperially around the room. “I still got it.” She declared.

“I say, my dear Mrs. Tyrell, you most certainly do.” Her companion, Mr. Steed, agreed wholeheartedly.


	23. Never Enough

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the Lovely Flower

It was funny how the pandemonium ensued _after_ the danger was over. Sandor couldn’t leave but he insisted Arya had to go to the emergency room. Sandor had to cart her out to Tyrion’s limo kicking and screaming the whole while. She kept telling everyone she was fine but no one would listen. Finally, Sandor had no choice but to shut her up with his lips. He had to admit he was impressed with just how well that had worked. Arya was smiling like it was her name day and Sevenmas all rolled into one.

By the time Tyrion was able to make his excuses to his father and leave the ball, Sansa and Arya were already in the limo. He looked in the door at Arya’s big dopey grin and glanced over her head at Sansa with concern. “Just how hard do you think she hit her head?”

“Come on, Tyrion.” Sansa urged with a small smile of her own. "I’m pretty sure it’s not a head injury causing her to look like that but we had better have her checked out just in case.”

Tyrion stayed in the waiting room while Sansa went into the exam room with Arya. They decided they should keep her for a few hours for observation. Then the doctor ordered she be sent to x-ray for her arm because he suspected it was broken where Oakheart had hit her with his security baton. When he asked her if she had any more injuries she had to show him the huge welt on her chest from the baton as well.

Sansa had a meltdown and started to feel dizzy. All the attention was taken away from Arya while everyone rushed to her aid. They had her sit in a chair and bend over until her head was was lower than her knees. The doctor turned back to Arya and observed her torn dress for the first time. He scratched his head. "Just what kind of a party was this, anyway?"

At some point, the police tried to get in to question Arya but Tyrion had the doctor put a stop to that immediately. Tyrion had been on his phone with Clegane and they had some interesting discussions about the evening’s events. Later on, he took Sansa aside and told her he had to leave but he would send his limo back to the hospital for her as well as his bodyguard. He also told her to not talk to the police and not to let Arya talk to them either. Sansa nodded her head. She intended to take a law degree and was no fool.

It was nearly dawn by the time the hospital released Arya. Tyrion’s bodyguard whisked them out a side door. Sansa immediately fell asleep in the limo and looked as peaceful and beautiful as Sleeping Beauty. Arya glanced at herself in the mirror. She looked like something the cat dragged in.

Arya was carried into their building by Tyrion’s own bodyguard. Sansa trailed along afterward. Arya was complaining bitterly but once again no one listened to her.

“Oh my goodness!” Harwin exclaimed. He came out from behind his desk and pressed the elevator button for them. “Was it Ramsay Bolton?” He whispered to Sansa.

Sansa was taken aback. “Uh, no.” They stepped into the elevator. “We’re not home to anyone except for Sandor Clegane and Tyrion Lannister.” The doors started to close. “That includes the police.” She finished mysteriously.

Arya awoke sometime in the afternoon enveloped in warmth and security. Sandor was wrapped tightly around her and everything was right with the world. He was sleeping soundly and Arya just enjoyed being with him for awhile. Eventually, she went into the kitchen to search for some food. Sansa placed a bowl with some chicken noodle soup on the table along with some crackers.

“I’m not sick!” Arya complained.

“Shut up and eat your soup.”

Arya blew on the steaming soup. “How long ago did Sandor get here?”

“I don’t know, maybe a couple of hours ago.”

“Oh, I guess he wasn’t really all that worried about me.” Arya frowned.

Sansa sighed. “Okay, here’s the deal. Sandor and Tyrion decided some things between them while they were on the phone. I’ll let Sandor tell you about that. The other thing is that Tywin Lannister had a heart attack last night right after we left the party. The excitement was probably too much for him. Tyrion has been with the family at his bedside at the KLU Med Center and Sandor wasn’t able to get away.”

Arya dropped her spoon. “What?” The news made her feel funny for some reason.

. . . . .

Arya went back into her bedroom and crawled back into bed with Sandor. He rolled over and pinned her to the bed with his body while being careful to keep clear of her injured arm. “All right, Girl. I think it’s time you told me exactly what happened.”

Arya squirmed. “I already told you last night.”

“Is that so? I think you may have left out a few things.” Sandor’s deep brown eyes were looking straight into her own.

“I . . . what do you want to know?”

Sandor traced her lips with his finger. “I’m serious, Arya. I was never so frightened in my life.”

Arya felt a pang of guilt. “All right. I may have left out the part where Rolf forced me into the library at gunpoint and bound my arms and my legs.”

Sandor took a breath as if he was going to say something but then he just dropped his head to her shoulder. Arya put her arm around him and smoothed her hand on the back of his head.

“I wasn’t in any real danger from him. He was just trying to keep me out of the way.”

Sandor pushed himself up again so he could look at her. “We found part of your dress on the chair. How did that happen?”

“Oh, I did that. It was in my way. You can’t kick in a ball gown, Sandor.”

“You do realize he would have killed you if it served his purposes, don’t you?” He said harshly.

“I tried to go for help after that. I just trusted the wrong person.” Arya’s lips trembled. “I know I made some mistakes.”

Sandor couldn’t stand it. His lowered his lips to hers and kissed her as tenderly as he could. Arya returned his kisses and her hand slid under his shirt. She touched him so softly that it made him shiver. She took hold of his shirt and tried to lift it over his head. Sandor found himself ripping it off for her and flinging it across the room. She used her nails to tease him. She raked down his belly, lower and lower and lower until her hand slid under the waistline of his shorts.

She could hear his breath catch in his throat. He was hard and straining against her fingers. He was sucking his breath in and out against her lips. He attempted to fight her. “Arya, your sister is home.”

“That’s what the lock on the door is for, remember?” She murmured teasingly. Sandor got up and locked the door. He then stripped naked before he got back into bed. He knew he couldn’t resist her. He didn’t even try. He finally had to admit to himself that not only was he unable to resist, he didn’t want to resist. Who knew that giving in could feel _so_ good?

When they finally came up for air, Arya was purring like a kitten. Sandor clasped her against his chest and she burrowed her face into the side of his neck. He’d submitted at first but then he’d shown her a thing a two. He wasn’t always the one who had to be shouting for more. Arya glanced up at the smug look on Sandor’s face. She decided she would let him have his little victory this time. She would just double down on him the next go around.

“Arya, I’m probably going to have to leave pretty soon.”

“What? No!”

“I want to explain to you a couple of things.” He turned to look at her. “You and Sansa have to find an attorney to help you make a statement to the police. Tyrion and I have agreed to leave the Faceless Men out of the narrative.”

Arya sat up. “You what?”

“So far, you, me, Sansa and Tyrion are the only ones who know about their involvement with the security team and the ball. I think it would be best to keep it that way. I mean, obviously, they were not there to harm the Queen.”

Arya tried to speak but Sandor held up his hand.

“I think its best we protect you from your association with them. Not only would it hurt your reputation but I’m hoping if we don’t mention them it will protect you from any reprisals from them.”

“But Sandor . . .”

“When I gave my statement to the police, I never mentioned Jaqen H’ghar nor his true line of work. I told them about Rolf and the photographer coming to our aid but not that the photographer had a gun. When the police informed me that both of them couldn’t be located, I acted surprised.”

Sandor rubbed his neck. “When I told them about your bodyguard, Finn, I just said you and Sansa suspected something was wrong because of the email Sansa had received. I never mentioned you thought he was a Faceless Man. Just so you know, he got away in all the confusion as well. As far as the police know, they all may have been accomplices of Arys Oakheart’s but that’s it. One other thing, you are going to have to explain your dress in the library. You said Rolf bound you but there was no evidence of that.”

“I picked up the zip ties and the rope and stuffed them into my handbag.” Arya admitted. “I can make up something about my dress but Rolf took the phone cord.”

“Hmm, it’s too late to do anything about that. I’m sure the police have already noticed. After they found your dress in there, I’m sure they went over the room very thoroughly. It’s better not to mention it. If the police have any more questions for you, they can ask through you attorney. Whatever you do, don’t try to talk to them on your own.”

“So Varys had hired Oakheart to kill Daenerys?”

“The rumor is that the Queen and Varys were at odds for a long time. He thought her politics were dangerous and he disapproved. That’s why she was getting ready to fire him and was looking for a replacement.” Sandor snorted. “If he hadn’t panicked, he probably could have just walked out the door of the Red Keep. It wasn’t like anyone knew he was involved. Arys Oakheart wasn’t in the position to tell on him at that moment.”

“Yes, Sandor. Remind me to never get in the way of your fist.”

“You don’t ever need to worry about anything like that, Girl.”

. . . . .

Shireen, Hot Pie, Gendry and Pod dropped in at dinnertime. They decided to order up some Dornish take-out. They had some lamb pitas and grape leaves stuffed with raisins, onions, mushrooms and fiery dragon peppers. Arya didn’t tell Sansa but it was much more fulfilling than canned chicken noodle soup. They were all gathered in the living room and the food was spread out on the coffee table.

Hot Pie had made her a get well chocolate cream pie. Arya hopped up and gave him a kiss. “You certainly know the way to a girl’s heart, Hot Pie.” Arya took a bite and then turned to all her friends. “Thank you all so much.”

“You’re welcome!” Shireen chirped. “I hope you know you scared us all silly.”

Gendry glared at Arya. “Just what did you think you were doing?”

Arya told them about Sansa’s email from the security agency and how they’d been suspicious of their bodyguard and how she’d been tricked by Arys Oakheart.

Pod looked at her strangely. “So, instead of running for help when you had the chance, you just decided to fight him yourself and save the Queen?”

Sansa piped up. “Yes, Pod. She’s that insane.”

“You know,” Gendy began. “When he first attacked you and you were defenseless, he could have easily killed you right then. I’m sure he meant to kill you. I mean, after all, you could identify him.”

Arya swallowed hard. Gendry was absolutely right. He got up and made Pod move so he could sit next to Arya on the sofa. His face softened and he gave her a hug. “I’m glad you’re still with us even though you are so exasperating.”

All her friends suddenly realized just how much danger Arya had faced. Shireen leaned over and gave her a big hug as well.

Pod was sitting on the floor on Sansa’s expensive wool rug. “You were truly amazing fighting like that, Arya. I told everyone around me that you were my date.”

“Yeah, I wouldn’t let Sandor hear you say that.” Hot Pie chimed in.

Shireen smiled. “On the bright side, you don’t have to hide your relationship with Sandor any longer. Everyone saw the way you were kissing your hero.”

“Hey wait a minute!” Arya protested. “I could have beaten Arys Oakheart by myself. As soon as my head cleared up, I would have had him.”

Sansa shook her head. “Arya Stark! You _will_ stay out of trouble. I’m glad school is starting. You need to keep your head down and into some dusty old tome on ancient history.”

“Oh, no! This is the worst time to break your arm, Arya.” Shireen fretted.

As the others went out the door, Gendry lagged behind. “I’m going to tell you something about me and Myrcella and I want you to keep it in the strictest of confidence.” He paused. “We are dating.”

“Uh, Gendry, that’s not really a secret. Plenty of people saw you together at the ball.”

He rolled his eyes. “No, that’s not the secret. Myrcella is not really my half-sister. She found out when she had some medical issues that Robert Baratheon is not really her father.”

“What!”

“I shouldn’t really tell you this but she’s not so sure that he’s Joff’s or Tommen’s father either.”

“Who is their father, then?” Arya asked.

“I’d rather not say.”

. . . . .

Arya was disappointed because Sandor wasn’t able to come back that evening to see her. She didn’t sleep well that night and Sansa had to go to work the next morning. She was going to try to get them in to see a good attorney later that afternoon. After Arya had breakfast with Sansa, she had to call work and explain she was going to be out for awhile. After Sansa left, Arya fell back into bed.

Instead of giving other people massages, she felt as if she was in need of a little TLC herself. At some point she began to dream about Jaqen. She could almost smell his spicy tea. It was a decoction of black tea leaves, green cardamom pods, cinnamon sticks, ground cloves, ground ginger and black peppercorns. It was simmered with milk and sweetened with a dash of honey.

She slowly came awake and opened her eyes. There was a cup of steaming tea on her bedside table. She sat up. The tea was so hot; she had to blow on it before she could take a sip. She began to think about why the Faceless Men would work to protect Daenerys. If the Queen was to be given the sacred gift of death by Arys Oakheart, why would they interfere? It seemed to her that if they saved a life, they would want a life in return since they would not want the Many-Faced God to be cheated. It seemed likely that the person who hired them to save Daenerys would have to give a life in return.

Contrary to popular belief, most of their killings weren’t flashy front-page news. They actually specialized in making deaths look accidental or natural. They were adept at poisons of all kinds. It wouldn’t be hard to make it appear someone had a heart attack for instance. She put the cup of tea back onto the table. Had they already poisoned Tywin Lannister but then had to save him because they weren’t owed a death? Had Arya ruined their plans? After all, they hadn’t saved the Queen, she had.

Who would want Daenerys saved at Tywin’s expense? Could it possibly have been Cersei, Joff, Jaime or Tyrion? It was well-known that Tyrion and his father did not get along. Tyrion took an avid interest in politics. Had he known in advance that Daenerys would ask him to be her new Hand? Tyrion had also been easily persuaded by Sandor to omit mentioning the Faceless Men to the police. Had it been for Sansa and Arya’s benefit or his own? She really hoped her painkillers were making her paranoid and none of her crazy conspiracy theories were true.

Arya picked up her tea and found Jaqen at the kitchen table where she joined him. Her phone and flint knife were lying on the table in front of him. He was holding his cup of tea. She looked at his tanned, perfectly formed hands. She remembered his hands. He had taught her to fight with those hands. He had taught her to use a variety of weaponry too. His hands could be used equally well for offense or defense or more subtly for seduction. Unfortunately, his hands were also used for giving the gift of death. She had many good and bad memories of his hands but she knew it was his eyes more than anything else she should be wary of. She was trying her best not to look into his pale blue eyes at the moment.

“How is a lovely girl feeling today?”

She glanced up involuntarily and caught his eyes but then quickly looked away. “I’m fine. The Starks are known for their hard heads.”

He graced her with his rich, throaty laugh. “Just so.” He reached out and took her hand. “They also seem to have more courage than sense.”

Arya gently removed her hand. “If you are looking for an apology, you should know you will not receive it.”

He studied her. “A man has already accepted he cannot change Arya Stark.”

Her eyes flashed angrily. “No, that’s not what I meant. I meant I’m not going to apologize for robbing the Many-Faced God of Tywin Lannister.”

Of course, he didn’t react at all. “A man shall not discuss that with a lovely girl.”

She knew the Faceless Men had mistakenly suspected that Sandor was going to kill the Queen. She understood that when Jaqen first came to town he’d had no obligation to warn her. As a matter of fact, he had jeopardized their whole operation by doing so. In a way, if he hadn’t raised her suspicions, their operation may have very well been successful and the sacred gift would have been given. She was suddenly very afraid for his safety.

She reached out and took his hand. “You shouldn’t have come here. What if the order finds out what you have done?”

His jaw clenched. It seemed he was having a little trouble controlling his face. “A man has been careful. Although, they may have been right about me; it seems a man has no sense where a lovely girl is concerned.”

She had suspected that he had only started a romantic relationship with her because he had been assigned to bring her into the order and he’d been unable to achieve that in any other way. They did things like that. They weren’t above infiltrating people’s lives and seducing them to achieve the Temple’s goals. It was called the long game. She wondered if she would ever know the truth.

Arya pressed her advantage. “Was it Tyrion? I need to know because of my sister.”

He frowned. “That is not a girl’s business.” Arya rubbed her thumb over his hand in a little seduction technique of her own. He continued slowly. “A man only said those things about Tyrion because he didn’t want a lovely girl’s sister to go to the ball with him and put herself in danger. That was all there was to it.”

“Did you take her dress?”

He looked away. “I thought to take both of your dresses but I could not find yours.” He suddenly got to his feet. “It was for the best that you left Braavos when you did. A man refused to believe it at the time but he believes it now. A man does not want a lovely girl to be exposed to deceit and danger. I cannot say I like Clegane. You can do better. You do not really need a man at all. You already have everything you need inside of you.”

Arya held her tongue. She knew she didn’t need Sandor but she wanted him more than anything.

He walked to the door. “A man has left many things unsaid, Arya Stark. That too is for the best.” He bowed. “Valar morghulis.”

Arya answered. “Valar dohaeris, Jaqen.”

. . . . .

After Arya and Sansa left the attorney’s office and had finished their statement for the police, they went out to dinner. By the time they got back to their building it was dark and it was pouring rain. They hurried up the street and saw one of Sansa’s neighbors was helping an elderly resident into the building with her groceries. The neighbor had looped the leashes of his two great black mastiffs over the post on the railing near the door. The doorman then disappeared inside as well.

Arya caught a movement out of the corner of her eye and realized Ramsay Bolton was coming for her at a dead run with his skinning knife in his hand. Sansa was further ahead of her and had reached down to pet the two dogs. She had caught sight of Ramsay too. She calmly reached up and flipped the mastiffs’ leashes off the top of the post. “Get him boys!” She shouted. 

After Ramsay had been hauled away in an ambulance, Sansa apologized to Harwin for all the blood on the sidewalk. The rain had stopped and most of it was still visible.

“It’s no problem, Ms. Stark.” Harwin squeaked. Arya thought the same could be said for Ramsay. He wasn’t going to be any problem for a long time either.

. . . . .

Arya was glad that Jaqen had told her that her suspicions about Tyrion were groundless. Even though she did not particularly like Tywin Lannister, she still believed he should be warned that someone was out to get him. She supposed she should leave that to Sandor. She just wanted to live her life for awhile without any drama.

After Sandor arrived, Sansa decided to let them have a little privacy and went to spend some time with Tyrion. Arya and Sandor sat on the sofa for a little while and talked about recent events. Then the talk turned to Arya’s upcoming classes.

“Arya, I’ve decided I’m going to move out of the Baratheon security complex and get my own place.”

Arya’s dark brow lifted. “Are you allowed to do that?”

“I don’t care if I’m _allowed_ or not. I want my own place where we can be alone.”

“Why, Sandor, however shall we spend our time together? Are we going to read medieval history to each other?”

“Don’t you worry about how we will spend our time, Girl.” He growled. “I have some major _plans_ for you.”

“Plans?” Arya teased. “What sort of plans?”

“Are you asking for a preview?” He challenged.

Of course, Arya could never resist a challenge. She stood and held out her hand. “Come along now, Sandor, lets’s go in the bedroom and you can tell me all about your plans.”

He stood and looked down at her with a small smile playing around his lips. “Talking is overrated. Everyone knows that actions speak louder than words.”

When they got into the bedroom, Arya paused. “Would you like to see some something special, Sandor?”

“Of course.”

Arya bent down onto the floor and reached under her bed. She removed a very old, intricately carved, wooden case from underneath it and then placed it on her dresser. “This has been passed down in my family for generations. It was given to me by my father." She unlocked the case and opened it reverently. It contained a rather sharp weapon. “This is it. It’s Arya’s Valyrian steel dagger.”

Sandor stared at her. “Is it for real?” He breathed.

“Of course it is.” She picked it up and twisted her wrist back and forth so that the light glinted off the blade’s greenish highlights. “I know you didn’t believe me the first time I told you but I can assure you, the Night King was slain with this by my ancestor.”

Sandor looked into Arya’s grey Northern eyes. He was a pragmatic man and not prone to flights of fancy but if her ancestor was anything like her he knew it had to be true.

“Have you ever seen anything as beautiful as this?” She asked.

Sandor took the dagger from her hand and admired it for a few moments before he returned it to its case. “Yes, Girl. I have seen something even more beautiful than that. I’m looking at her right now.”

Arya led him to the bed. “I’m ready, Sandor.”

He couldn't believe she was ready to give herself completely to him at last. Sandor carefully removed her clothing and then his own. He couldn’t hide the way he was shaking. Arya reached out and put her arms around him to comfort him. “It’s all right, my love.”

“I love you, Arya.” Sandor somehow managed to say before his emotions got the better of him.

He lifted the most precious woman in the world into his arms and gently placed her on the bed. She opened her welcoming arms and he sank down into the warmth of her body and the shining light of her soul. Sandor made love to her with all the passion in his heart. Arya responded by calling for him over and over again. He had believed that he would always be left wanting and that he could never have enough of her but he had been wrong. She’d given him everything he could have ever wanted. She had satisfied the need inside of him just as he had satisfied hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! I can't tell you how much it means to me! I hope you enjoyed this story. Comments and Kudos are always welcome!
> 
> I want to especially thank the Loveliest of Lovely Flowers. Without her, I may well have given up. She made this story possible. Thank you for everything, amazing, wonderful, Lovely Flower!

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! Comments and Kudos are always welcome!


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